


Templar's Protection

by AntalyaLace



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Age Difference, Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Kink Meme, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntalyaLace/pseuds/AntalyaLace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Templar's hold all the power over mages, and mages must behave accordingly to not incur punishment. This reminds me of some very particular BDSM... So. Say Templar's are sworn to chastity against *everyone save the mages*. Mages are the only ones they are not only entrusted to guard but also to help them find release from frustrations, fears and uncertainties, thereby insuring they don't turn to abominations. (hey, its totally *a* form of discipline!) Templar otherwise don't engage in sex with non-mages. (what? its their sworn duty!)</p><p>I don't actually want angst, i want this to be an *excepted* understanding between Mages and Templars....a tried and tested method that works for both sides. (make love not war? yes? yes? Dom/Sub style?)</p><p>Go with this any way you like, maybe show me a typical week in the tower. Maybe Duncan comes to recruit a mage, and after learning the Circle's secret, has to also recruit the Mage's Dom!Templar. Is Alistair that templar? Cullen? Or maybe a mage is a "problem" mage, and Greagoir decides he has to personally discipline that one... is that mage Anders? Amell? Surana? You decide Anon, but I would like to see this *work* for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Another Day at the Office

**Author's Note:**

> Story Summary: After the events of the Blight, a broken Neria Surana returns to the tower. To help her deal with her problems, she invokes Templar's Protection, an old Chantry tradition that transfers ownership of the mage from the Chantry in general to one templar specifically. She chooses Knight-Commander Greagoir as her templar, but it's not too long before she begins to realize she's gotten more than she bargained for in the tower's knight-commander.

_Greagoir:_

It was late in the afternoon on an early spring day, and he was stuck in his office going over recruit reports. With a sigh, Greagoir set the latest one aside as he rubbed his tired eyes. Sometimes he wondered where he'd found the strength to carry on, but somehow he had, and the mage tower was slowly recovering from the devastation that had shaken it when the mages had run rampant under Uldred's rebellion. It was now a year and a half after the Blight, and Queen Anora was ruling well and wisely in Denerim. Greagoir had been able to cudgel the men and supplies he needed from his superiors and conditions in the tower were almost back to normal. It seemed the Maker had a sense of humor as they had discovered more children with mage abilities in the last year and a half than they had in the previous ten. The tower was overflowing with young apprentices, and the sounds of their voices could be heard floating through its halls at all hours.

The tower was also now home to the Hero of Ferelden. Months after the death of King Maric's youngest son, Neria Surana had one day shown up on the tower's doorstep, but the young woman who returned was a much different person from the girl who had left. When she had first come back and had asked him for his permission to remain, he had been frankly surprised. She had always been a handful, and when she had left with Duncan, he had thought never to see her again. Then she had returned to save the Circle, and had even come to see him afterwards to try and smooth over what had happened between them the day she had broken into the repository. He would never agree with her actions, but at least time had proven she wasn't a blood mage like Jowan had been.

Greagoir had given his less-than-enthusiastic permission for her to stay, expecting that trouble would follow, but that hadn't happened. She'd kept to herself, using her reputation as a shield against the company of those who would seek her out. Greagoir sometimes found himself watching her when she wasn't aware of it, and he wondered what had caused such a change in her. She had a natural grace that drew his eyes to her, and the stirrings of attraction he felt at such times troubled him.

He was trying to muster up the energy to return to his paperwork when a knock sounded on his door. "Come in," he called, more than happy for the interruption. He was surprised when the door swung open to reveal the very elf he had just been thinking about.

"Knight-Commander? May I have a few minutes?" she asked.

"Of course." He stood and indicated the chair in front of his desk, placed there for just such visits. He watched Neria move across the room and was reminded of the stories of the hunting cats of West Hill. They were said to be deadly and never lose their prey, but you could pass within five feet of one and never know it was there. Her body reminded him of that same cat, strong, supple, and graceful beneath her robes. He returned to his seat as she took hers. "Now, what did you need to see me about?" he asked in what he thought of as his official knight-commander voice.

She looked at him with those dark eyes with the impossibly long eyelashes, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Telling himself not to be ridiculous, he leaned forward slightly to listen to what she had to say.

"I need help," she said in a quiet voice.

"What kind of help?" He watched as she nervously ran a finger along a seam of her robes and her eyes dropped to her lap.

"I wish to invoke Templar's Protection."

Greagoir sat back in his chair in surprise. "Are you certain?" he asked. "That's a serious step."

"Yes," she said, still without looking at him.

He waited a few moments, but she added nothing else. He felt compelled to try and understand why she would think such extreme measures were required. Templar's Protection was no game, and once invoked, the mage had little choice in what followed after. "What would push you to such a decision?"

There was a long pause before she answered. "I'm having difficulty with temptation." Again, she refused to meet his eyes.

Greagoir knew what her comment meant—demons. He ran through his mind the incident reports he had received the past few weeks, but nothing involving Neria came to mind. He then probed quickly, checking the Veil surrounding her, but he felt no tell-tale thinning to indicate an immediate problem.

"I see." He wanted to ask more questions, but he restrained his curiosity. The specifics of her situation would be the business of the templar whose charge she became. "In that case, I will allow it." Greagoir looked down at his desk and began shuffling papers, looking for his duty roster so he would have a good idea who to suggest. "Now, we have several younger templars I can recommend--"

"No, I want you."

Greagoir froze midsentence and raised his eyes to hers. "Me?" He hated the way his voice all of a sudden sounded like a fourteen-year-old's, cracking and jumping into a higher range.

She nodded her head and looked at him with those soulful eyes.

"I'm old enough to be your father, Neria. Surely, you want someone younger—"

She interrupted him. "No, I've assessed the various templars here and considered this carefully. I need the qualities that you possess. Many a noble daughter has found herself given to a man who is her father's contemporary. This wouldn't be any different. Besides, isn't it my right to choose?"

She had him there. It was the mage's choice as to which templar they sought shelter from, as it was the templar's to refuse. He felt it only right to give her another chance to change her mind before she committed herself irrevocably. "It is highly unusual for the knight-commander to take on this responsibility. If this is truly what you wish, then you must know that I will shirk neither my duty to you nor the templars under me, but I will expect you to honor your part of the arrangement. I must have the respect of my men to command here, and your behavior in public would have to reflect that." There was a part of him that wondered if she truly comprehended what she would be letting herself in for.

Neria nodded her head before speaking, "I understand, but I still ask it." She continued to look at him with a steady gaze.

Greagoir felt the first stirrings of desire in his body at the thoughts of what his acceptance of her request would mean. He was uncomfortable discussing this with her, but he had to make sure Neria understood what she was asking for. He knew that as a matter of course the apprentices weren't taught about the ritual. "You do know what Templar's Protection entails, don't you?"

Neria flushed and dropped her gaze. "Yes. You would have full authority over me, including my physical body."

Well, that was a concise description if he had ever heard one. Greagoir stood up and came around to the front of his desk. He leaned his weight against it and crossed his arms, crowding into her personal space. She didn't move away, however, but peered up at him from under the fringe of dark hair that fell across her forehead. "And you are willing to submit to my commands?" He couldn't stop the disbelief that crept into his voice.

"Yes." Her voice was so soft and quiet he could barely hear it even as near to her as he was.

Her eyes fell once again, and his gaze dropped to where she twisted her fingers in her lap. The nails were all short and looked as if she had been biting them. It seemed that whatever was going on with her was pushing her to the edge of her control. However, he couldn't responsibly commit to Neria until he had some idea of what exactly he was getting himself into. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. "What would we be dealing with, Neria?"

"I think it's a desire demon."

Greagoir was surprised that one demon would drive her to such a decision. He had heard many of the stories of her adventures before ending the Blight and had been present here in the tower when she had triumphed over Uldred and his cronies. Now that he really looked at her, though, he saw the physical haggardness that she had acquired these past months. There were dark circles around her eyes and her mouth was pinched. There was also an air of weariness about her that he had never associated with her before. He hadn't noticed any of this when Neria had first come back to the tower. Whatever had driven her here, it was obvious that simply returning hadn't solved the problem.

He couldn't turn her down. If she ran into trouble after seeking his help and he had denied her, Greagoir wouldn't be able to live with himself. "Very well, but the vows must be said." He pushed himself away from the desk, uncrossing his arms, to stand straight and tall before her.

Neria rose from the chair, moving it back and out of her way, and then went to her knees before him. She bowed her head, looked at the floor, and spoke rapidly the words that would bind her to him. "I ask your strength to augment my weakness, your body placed between mine and all that would threaten me. I offer you my obedience to your commands and my willing self as your reward. I ask you to be my templar."

Greagoir felt almost young again as he looked at the woman who knelt at his feet. He crouched down and placed a fingertip under her chin, tipping her head up so her eyes met his. He wanted her to see how seriously he took this responsibility and that he meant every word he said. "I will stand between you and danger, both of this world and the Fade. I will treat with you fairly, never abusing your body or asking more than you have to give. I claim you as my mage."

He stayed as he was for a moment or two, still staring into her eyes. With the ritual words complete, they were past the point of no return. By Chantry law, she belonged to him until such time as he released her from her vow. He held his breath as he slowly ran his finger up from under her chin to caress the soft skin of her cheek. Greagoir had never allowed himself to think of touching her before, and he was surprised to feel his hand shaking. To disguise this weakness, he rose, reluctantly losing the contact with her skin.

"You will gather your things and move into my quarters. I expect you to be there when I get off duty." He threw a look at the time piece on his desk. "That will be in three hours. There is a pillow on the bed you may remove and use as a cushion, but I expect when I come in the door that you will be on your knees waiting for me." He needed to show her a strong hand from the start. Greagoir would take as much time as it required to tame her to his will, but today he meant to show her that he was no weakling and would be very much the one in control. "For tonight, attire is your choice." He was curious as to what she would do with that command.

Greagoir saw a faint blush color her skin before Neria nodded and looked away. "Yes, I'll be there."

He arched an eyebrow in disapproval and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Yes?"

Her eyes moved back to his face, and the blush deepened even more. "Yes, Ser," she said, amending her previous comment. "It will be as you say." She pushed off the floor and rose.

Greagoir hesitated before placing his hands on her shoulders and then leaning over to put his lips against her forehead. She would have to get used to his touch in the days ahead. "I won't let you down. You will be safe, I swear," he promised her. Although she wasn't exactly responsive, she didn't pull away from him either. Greagoir was relieved that she accepted his hands on her with no fuss. It was a starting point for what would come later.

She turned to leave, but Greagoir said, "Wait." He then quickly moved behind his desk and scrawled something on a piece of parchment. He came back around and handed it to her. "This will get you into the templars' quarters for now." Her eyes widened at his comment, but she just nodded her head and took the offered parchment. She turned without another word and walked toward the door.

Greagoir watched her leave before he circled his desk once more and fell heavily into his chair. He stared at the desk blankly as his thoughts raced. He would have to discover more about what her—their—problem was and then figure out a way to solve it.

When he had risen from his bed that morning, he'd had no idea how his day was going to turn out. If someone had told him he would acquire a mage before supper, he certainly wouldn't have believed them.


	2. The Path to Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long italicized summary portion in the beginning, but since it is porn with plot, I wanted to explain why Neria decided to do this and why she selected Greagoir as her templar. If you are reading just for the upcoming porn, you can probably skip that section without missing a whole lot of the current story.

_Neria:_

As she reached for the soap, Neria's eyes turned once again to the sand falling through the small hourglass timer she had brought with her into the bath in the mages' quarters. She didn't dare be late. The knight-commander would expect her to be in place as he had ordered her. _The knight-commander…_ she had better get used to thinking of him in the terms of what he was to her now—the man she belonged to.

The nausea rose again at the thought and she swallowed convulsively. For a moment she was afraid she would lose the contents of her stomach into her bathwater, but by continuing to swallow in huge gulps, the nausea soon eased. She leaned back against the rim of the tub once more and closed her eyes. She hoped she hadn't made a mistake, but it was too late now. She still couldn't believe she had actually gone through with it and committed herself in such a way.

It all sprang back to the time right after her Harrowing that had led her to the Wardens. It seemed that everything in her life either led to or resulted from then. She remembered that frantic time, and now it almost seemed as though it all had happened to someone else. There had been so much emotion packed into each day: fear; hope; despair; the feeling of accomplishment with each victory as they won them; and, of course, the love.

 _Neria was a bit of a prankster growing up, quick to garner attention by the laughter she caused, but she was standoffish beyond that public façade. No one was really close to her, not even Jowan, who was her best friend in the tower. She wasn't sure why she found it so hard to trust anyone. Maybe she still carried some subconscious memories of her life in the alienage before she was taken from her family. Whatever it was, she was always cautious of the motives of those who wanted more from her than she was willing to give._

 _And then into her life came Alistair. She really didn't like him that much at first. His joke at the mage's expense when she first met him fell flat to her ears. Knowing that he would be standing watch over her, as the templars in the tower had her entire life, didn't help smooth things over either. But over the weeks and months that followed, somehow he wormed himself into her heart. She found herself relying on him, and each time he didn't fail her, she was pleasantly surprised. He became a master at effortlessly soothing the Veil each time she disrupted it, and his strong presence at her side was a balm for her uncertainty at life outside the tower. Everything was so different, and she often felt lost. But having been forced into the role of senior Grey Warden, Neria had no choice but to learn, and quickly, how to show only an unruffled front to all those around her. Only Alistair, who calmed the Veil in her wake, had a glimmer of how confusing she found the outside world. Neria fought her attraction to Alistair as hard as she could, pushing away his too-obvious-gestures with the cruelty of her words. He would just smile that hurt little smile of his and look at her with those puppy dog eyes, and she found herself back pedaling, not able to make that final cut to whatever it was that lay between them._

 _His gentlemanly manners and her refusal to acknowledge her feelings for him were what kept them apart for so long. They only became lovers shortly before the Landsmeet that changed everything and the resulting scene at Arl Eamon's that smashed all her dreams. When Alistair set her aside for duty, it tore her to pieces inside. She had been filled with so much rage, she hadn't been able understand how he could hurt her the way he did. However, the Blight waited for no heartache, so she pushed all her companions relentlessly on the trek to Redcliffe, telling herself she was barely able to stomach Alistair's presence as they marched._

 _Next came Riordan's news of the archdemon and the price the Grey Wardens must pay. In a way, she was glad when she heard Riordan's words. It was a way out of the pain she felt, and when Morrigan made her offer minutes later, Neria refused her without a thought. She would take the final blow and kill the archdemon, and nothing or no one would ever hurt her again._

 _Her plan didn't quite work out like that, though. Alistair absolutely refused to be left at the gates of the city and fought by her side the whole way through Denerim. By the time they reached the top of Fort Drakon, it was almost like old times. He grinned at her wolfishly before charging out to face the archdemon and his minions. By the time she realized the archdemon was defeated and only needed the final killing blow, it was too late. Alistair spun out his final words to her and raced toward his doom. She gave chase, screaming denials, but he would not be stopped._

 _And there was more heartache to come. As she gave chase to Alistair, a hurlock stalked her. Valor, her mabari hound, engaged it at the last moment, saving her life, but losing his in the process. The pain of that double blow was almost her undoing. Wynne sent her into a deep sleep for days, only allowing her to partially awaken in order to get nourishment into her body. When Neria finally fully awoke, there was a stranger at her bedside, but she recognized the all-too-familiar armor he wore. She thought about protesting another templar in her life, but it seemed like too much effort. She fell into a depression for days, caring about nothing, and just lying in her bed in the infirmary. Wynne finally delivered a tongue lashing that at least caused her to get up and start moving around with some semblance of life._

 _The months that followed all ran together in her mind. At the queen's coronation, they named her hero and lavished the praise on her that was due to Alistair. There were feasts in her honor, but feeling it was luck more than skill that had carried her through the Blight, it was all ashes in her mouth. She went through the motions her supposed status required and stayed in Denerim at the queen's request. Even her grey warden status didn't saved her from the shadow of the Chantry as templars from the Denerim chantry watched over her in rotating shifts. These templars were pale imitations of those from the tower and not used to standing guard over a mage, but they reassured those around her. Once again, she put forth a face that the world conveniently believed. She learned to bury all her guilt and anguish internally so that the Veil remained unruffled in her wake. Her outer face was smooth and composed, but inside she was all sharp edges and broken pieces._

 _Shortly before her return to the mage tower, Neria began getting visitations in the Fade. She knew it wasn't her Alistair. He had never looked at her the way this one did, nor had the glib tongue this one employed. He played on her guilt, blaming her for not giving him a chance to live, for not giving him the choice of Morrigan's dark ritual. Even though it was not her Alistair, she could not bring herself to strike him down as she couldn't bear to see his dead form again._

 _Once should be enough in any lifetime._

 _She fled to the mage tower, seeking the only refuge she had left. But as it is so often said, you can never go home again. The tower had changed in the wake of Uldred's rebellion. So many people that she had known were dead or gone, mage and templar alike. The tower was even more firmly under the control of the templars, and this was evident in the way the mages now watched the watchers, giving way before any templar demand. It was only the respect that the knight-commander had for the first enchanter that gave him any sway over events. If the knight-commander had wished, he could have ruled with an iron fist, and there would have been no one to stop him._

 _But even here, the torment continued: Alistair's face, Alistair's voice, Alistair crying out for her to help him. It grew too much for her to bear. Dark circles appeared around her eyes as rest become harder and harder to find, and she felt her will slowly being sapped by the demon that relentlessly hunted her. She used every trick she had learned to hide her condition from those who watched her. The Hero of Ferelden rated one small concession. She had her own room, and it allowed her to escape templar notice the nights she woke with the Veil shifting dangerously around her._

 _One day in the section of the library that only harrowed mages had access to she came across an old treatise on the ritual of Templar's Protection. Until she read this, she had never really understood the purpose or what it was actually for. As apprentices in their beds late at night, they had joked about the "owned mages," as they'd called them, and sneered at them for being templar slaves. They had told stories to each other of depravations inflicted on these poor souls so vile as to be almost impossible._

 _As Neria read the true purpose and history of Templar's Protection, she felt a flickering of something she hadn't felt in a long time—hope. The more she'd read, the more that hope grew. It was strange to her to think that a templar could be the answer she had been looking for, but then again, strange was the watchword of her life. She found an odd symmetry in the idea. After all, had not a templar once meant more to her than anything else?_

 _She began to watch the templars around her, seeking for one who would have the necessary strength and be a man that she could respect. She observed a templar/mage pair that had bound themselves one to the other. Ser Davin took his mage everywhere on a leash, but Bevin didn't seem to care. His eyes followed his templar where ever he went, and Neria saw contentment in Bevin's face. She wondered what comfort he found when the door to Ser Davin's room closed behind him, but even more, she wondered if she could find that same peace in the shelter of a templar's embrace._

 _Still, she remained undecided, discarding this templar as a candidate because his eyes were cold, or that one because he was lazy and inefficient. It was one day in the entry hall that the possibility of the knight-commander first crossed her mind. She had gone to speak to the quartermaster about a volume she was trying to acquire when the main doors swung open as a new apprentice arrived at the tower. The child was a young girl, probably around seven or eight, and she was escorted by two templars from her local chantry. The knight-commander swept into the room to officially take custody and hear the story of how the young one's power had manifested itself. Petra, who in the wake of the heavy loss of enchanters during the tower rebellion was now in charge of the apprentices, arrived and took the child in hand._

 _Neria watched the knight-commander, and as Petra and the child headed towards the apprentice quarters, his eyes met hers. A connection flared between them, and she was unable to look away. It was the expression of regret she saw in his eyes that stayed with her long after he turned away to speak to the men beside him._

 _The knight-commander had been at the periphery of her life as long as she could remember. When she was young, she had daydreamed of him, imaging her unknown father as strong and upright as him. As she had gotten older, though, those earlier fantasies had been replaced by the reality that this man, along with the first enchanter (who was much less_ scary _), controlled the fate of every mage in the tower. Her defiance surrounding her Harrowing had been a way for her to cope with the fear that the knight-commander had invoked in all the apprentices._

 _When she had returned to the tower during the Blight with her friends, she had been seeking help for Connor and had managed to save the Circle from being annulled. Before she left once again, she had talked with the knight-commander in an attempt to smooth things between them. Even then, the tower had remained the closest thing to a home she had ever had. Although they stood on different sides of the issue of Jowan and would never agree, she and the knight-commander had come to a grudging respect for each other before Neria had left to return to Redcliffe._

 _After that day in the entry, she watched him as she sought to place herself where she knew he would be or would pass. She really looked at the knight-commander and saw the man behind the office—the determination in his face, the lines left behind from years of doing his duty regardless of the obstacles, and the strength that yet remained. Here was someone she already respected. If he agreed to her request, she knew he would do the best that he could to help her. Yes, he was older than her, but with Alistair, she'd had youth and handsomeness and look where that had left her. She felt a strange fluttering in her midsection as she had wondered to herself: Could he be the one?_

 _She looked for indications that she was wrong and that it would be a dreadful mistake to tie herself to the man. She delayed as long as possible, seeking any excuse she could find, but finally she knew she was running out of time. The last time the demon came to her, she allowed it to touch her as it whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes in her dream, hearing only that beloved voice, and she wasn't able to find the strength to push it away. When she awoke the Veil was dangerously thin, and Neria knew she could no longer put others around her at risk from what she would become if she lost her control._

 _In desperation, she sought the knight-commander out, finding him in his office and laying her proposal before him. As she expected, he agreed, seeing it as part of his duty as a man of his integrity would. It encouraged her that he had questioned her before acceding to her request, giving her the time to change her mind if she wished._

 _It was as she left his office that what she had done truly hit her. She stopped more than once on her way back to her quarters as her legs were shaking so badly she thought they wouldn't continue to support her. When she arrived back at her room, she wasted no time in heading for the baths. She was relieved to find them deserted. She quieted her mind for a time as she went through the routine of heating the water and filling the tub._

But now with nothing for her hands to do, the doubts and fears had full rein to run through her mind. Was she crazy for thinking that this would actually work? Had she given away her freedom of choice for something that couldn't save her? If she didn't have the strength to save herself, how could she expect him to? And since when did the Hero of Ferelden need anyone else to save her? Round and round went the questions in her head, but she had no way of answering them except to wait and see.

Her eyes flew open and went to the hourglass. _Oh, Maker, I'll be late._ She jumped out of the tub and grabbed the towel, running it hurriedly across her skin. Knowing he would soon be seeing her body, she took note of how scrawny she had become. She had fed that famous grey warden appetite when it struck, but her metabolism still seemed to have burned off far more than she had taken in. She knew some human men were drawn to elven women, but she couldn't help wondering if there was enough left of her to raise any interest in the man.

Exiting the bathing chamber, she left a silent apology behind her. If she took the time to clean up after herself, she really would be late. Neria hurriedly gathered all her belongings. It didn't take her long. She hadn't brought much with her from Denerim, and she wasn't one to acquire a bunch of useless items around her. She threw her few changes of clothes, her well-loved books, her Warden's Oath, and a fraying mabari collar into her old traveling pack. She picked up her staff, and she was ready to go. She threw a last look around the room she had lived in since returning. She should really stop by Aegon's office and let him know that he could reassign the room, but she figured the news would fly through the tower as if it had wings once it became known that she had become the knight-commander's property. Making sure she had his note in her hand, she left the mages' quarters without a glance behind her.

Neria hurried through the tower, and it wasn't until she approached the templars' quarters that she began to draw questioning looks. She hurried past those she passed, not looking anyone in the eye as she rushed to her appointed place. When she drew near the guard on the templars' door, she paused, took a deep breath, and held herself up proudly. She stalked up to the young man. He was one of the recruits, not yet a full templar. He frowned at her as he took the note, unaccustomed to a mage walking right up to him.

He read the page and looked at her, confusion evident on his face. "I'll have to check with my sergeant," he said, obviously not understanding the implication of why she was there. "Wait here."

She nodded wordlessly, and the young man disappeared within only to return shortly with an older man.

He looked her over in a way that few men had dared to do since she had left the tower and certainly none since the ending of the Blight, but unlike the recruit, this man knew there was only one reason why a mage carrying all her possessions would be requesting entrance to the templars' quarters. "The knight commander's quarters, huh?" was all he said.

She didn't deign to glance his way, but she felt a flush start to extend up her neck.

"Cedric, you had better show her the way."

"Yes, Ser!"

Neria followed the young recruit as he led her through the templars' living quarters. She could feel the stares of the templars they passed, but she kept her head held high and her eyes averted from any of them. She knew the rumors would be flying before she even set foot in the knight-commander's room.

Finally, the boy, because that is what he was, really, indicated a door. It was set off from the others as the knight-commander's rank allowed. The boy turned to make his way back to his post, and Neria took a deep breath before she slowly reached out a hand for the door.

She pushed it open and entered, and a spark of curiosity lit inside her in spite of herself. She shut the door behind her, and just took a moment to examine the area she would be living in. The smell hit her first, one of active man and armor oil combined with a musky scent that emanated from a sweet bundle hung in the corner. She took in the room's furnishings. They were a mixture of luxury and austerity as fitted the man who lived here. She avoided looking at the bed in the center of the room, her mind dancing away from the implications of that, but she saw a pile of books on the table at its side. She noted a chest at its foot and an armor stand in another corner. She also approved of the luxurious rugs, those with such deep pile it looked as if you could sink into them, that surrounded the bed and the small area set up in front of the fireplace. There a comfortable chair waited for someone to sit in it and a desk for any paperwork its owner might need to attend to.

Neria went over to examine the fireplace. It fascinated her. She had never seen one in the tower before. This one was different than those she had seen in the outside world. There was no wood stacked around it and no real chimney, but only a large block of stone set in where the fire would normally go. It only took her a moment to realize that it was made of the same material that conducted the heating and cooling spells through the various levels of the tower. She reached out a hand and the stone was cool to her touch. She concentrated just the slightest bit and sent a tendril of flame to the stone. It heated up rapidly, and a small smile crossed Neria's face as warmth emanated from the block.

She rose from the fireplace and walked to the other door in the large room. She opened it to reveal two small areas, one on each side of the short hall, where the knight-commander's clothes were hung along with a few shelves where his smallclothes and such were kept. She opened the door directly across from her and discovered a private bathing chamber. He even had his own tub. She dropped her pack and went back to the main room, leaning her staff against the wall by the door, and then returned to the small closet area. She hung her few changes of clothes and placed her own smallclothes and toiletries on the shelves below his.

Now she had a decision to make. What should she wear to greet him? Neria wanted to send him a message that she would abide by her part of the deal, but that was not a blatant come on. Her eyes flicked over her clothes. Mage robes didn't seem appropriate, nor the tunic and breeches that were her casual attire. Her eyes strayed to where his clothes were hanging, and they stopped on a soft linen shirt that hung from a hook. A memory came back to her of a time when she had donned one of Alistair's shirts and the way his eyes had darkened and followed every move of her body. She wasn't sure if that was the right image either, but realizing her time was running out and not having any other option, she grabbed his shirt and quickly shucked the robes she had donned after her bath. Feeling decadent, she stepped out of her smallclothes so she was totally nude. She pulled his shirt over her head, noting the pleasant smell of the clean material as the hem fell almost to her knees. She rolled up the sleeves and fussed with the lacings at the throat. She had another moment of indecision as to how low to tie the laces. She finally decided to leave only a hint of breast.

Neria picked up her brush, running it through her dark hair. She had kept it short when they had been traveling during the Blight, but it had grown in the past months and she hadn't bothered to have it cut off. Now that the time was approaching when the knight-commander would be arriving, her nerves caused her stomach to begin to hurt in earnest.

She set the brush down, braced herself, and returned to the main room. She approached the bed to retrieve the pillow he had allowed her, and she felt her heart beat a little faster. She shivered as the image of her lying on the bed with the knight-commander looming over her naked body flashed through her mind. _Buck up, Neria_ , she told herself. _You knew the price, and you still asked for this._

She couldn't deny anymore that she was nervous about this aspect. Alistair had been her only lover, and they had been together such a short time, it wasn't like she had tons of experience in bed. Neria remembered how off guard she had been when the knight-commander had touched her just before she left his office. She hadn't been touched by anyone in months, and she had forgotten what it was like to have someone else's skin against her own. She had felt a strange wish to rub her cheek against the finger he had trailed across her face, but thankfully she had been able to restrain that momentary impulse.

Neria hoped she wouldn't disappoint him as she definitely was no beauty. She had a scar high on her cheekbone from a wound she had taken in the Deep Roads. Neria's eyes were a dark brown in a perfectly ordinary face, although she was proud of the sheen of her dark hair. She tried to raise her confidence as she thought: _What you saw was what you got with Neria Surana, and he knew what he was getting when he agreed to this._

Neria picked up the pillow, carried it to the door, and then placed it on the floor. She stood looking down at it, understanding that this was the actual beginning. Here was the first test he had set her. If she was waiting as he had demanded on his arrival, it was her acknowledgement of the power he held over her. She dropped heavily onto the pillow and bowed her head. She was fiercely glad there was no one else to see her like this. How had she gotten here? When had she become so broken? Had her choices really been that wrong?

She waited for him for what seemed like forever. The designated three hours passed and then another after that. She didn't rise from her place on the pillow, however. She needed his help more than she needed her pride.

Finally, she heard a rattling at the door, and Neria involuntarily straightened and took a deep breath. The quiet was broken as he entered the room while juggling a handful of objects. He pushed the door shut with one booted heel and strode to the desk to drop the things in his arms. When he turned to regard her, she once again felt the heat of a flush travel up her neck and face. She dropped her eyes so as not to have to meet his as she waited for what he would say.

Approval was thick in his voice when he spoke. "Oh, very nice, Neria. I've never seen that shirt look so good."

She could feel the blush to the tip of her ears. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Neria heard him laugh, a deep masculine sound, and it surprised her so much she jerked her gaze to him. He looked younger here in this room as she realized she had never seen him so relaxed. She had only encountered him when he was in his knight-commander persona. Why, he was almost slouching as he leaned against the desk!

He moved then, pulling off his gauntlets as he headed towards the door to the bathing room. "I'm sorry I'm late," he called back over his shoulder. He then went on to explain how he had to referee a disagreement between two of his men. She didn't really listen to the whole detailed story as he talked to her while taking a piss, but she had to admit she enjoyed the cadence of his voice as he spoke.

She wasn't sure what she should do. He hadn't given her any direction as to whether she was allowed to leave the position he had assigned her. Just as she was considering getting up, he returned to the main room. "I had thought we would eat here tonight, but with as late as I was, I didn't have a chance to pick up dinner. We'll go to the mess instead."

This was another new idea to her. The templars didn't eat with the mages, of course, but she had never really given it a thought. Naturally, they would have their own dining area where they were free to relax and enjoy being in the company of their own kind.

"But first, I have something for you." He walked back over to the desk and began ratting around in the pile he had carried in the door.

Neria was caught off guard by his comment and remained silent, wondering what he could have for her.

"Ah, here it is," he said in triumph. "I've brought you your collar."

At his words, she felt a horror so strong run through her that she physically recoiled back towards the wall. She wouldn't—she couldn't—wear a collar. Her people had fought so hard to escape them; surely, he didn't mean it!

He frowned at the look on her face, and Neria felt her breathing increase to a point where she was almost panting as panic caused her heart to race. The Veil fluttered dangerously, and she felt him easily bolster the energies around her.

"Neria, come to me," he said and held out his hand. His voice was kind, but there was an undercurrent of steel to it, and Neria realized she truly had no choice. She had promised him obedience, and unless she meant to break that promise on the same day she had made it, she was obligated to go to him.

Her body moved reluctantly towards him even as her mind screamed in denial. _You asked for this, you asked for this, you asked for this, you asked for this._ The words played over and over in her head. When she drew close to him, she held out a shaking hand and placed it in his.

"Good girl," he said, and she hated how the approval in his voice caused a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. He pushed on her shoulder, indicating for her to kneel in front of him. As she fell to her knees, unable to find the strength or will to fight him, tears filled her eyes and she tried to turn her face so he couldn't see.

"Neria," he said again and the tenderness in his voice when he did so made her eyes water even more. "You know you must wear the collar. It will give you free access into and out of the quarters, and it's actually a form of protection for you. No templar will dare interfere with you as it marks you as mine. As a matter of fact, most of the templars will pretend they don't even see you. It's considered the height of bad manners to acknowledge another templar's mage." As he was speaking, he had brought the collar to her throat. She barely held in a sob as she felt him secure it around her neck.

"You know, I'm placing great trust in you," he said. "I'm putting you in a nonlocking collar, but you must never take it off. If I ever find you without it on, I will replace it with one with a lock." His voice had gotten more severe as he spoke, and Neria knew he meant every word. "I also had the craftsman leave off the Fade-blocking runes." He tossed that statement out casually.

Neria just looked at him, stunned at the idea that she could be cut off from the Fade simply because he thought she should be. "You'd take away my magic?" she asked in disbelief.

"Well, it certainly can be done at a templar's discretion, but I'm hoping it isn't necessary." His expression became solemn as he spoke. "You will refrain from casting any magic unless I specifically allow it. Again, I would prefer to be able to trust that you will follow my commands, but if you force my hand, I will have those runes applied."

Neria felt tears prick the corners of her eyes at the thought of the loss of what most defined her. It was that moment when it truly became clear to her that he had absolute control over _everything_ in her life. He could take anything from her, deny her access to the most fundamental part of herself, and there was no one who could or would stop him. _Maker, what have I done?_

"Now," he turned to his desk as he spoke, "we will need to leave as dinner will be served shortly." He looked back at her in a way that made a blush rise on her fair skin once again. His eyes traced the lines of her body and she could see desire there. "While I certainly appreciate the way you look in my shirt, I'd prefer to keep such a display just for me. Go and change into something more appropriate. I have a few things to see to here." He then sat down at his desk, and she knew she was dismissed.

Reeling from the multiple realizations that had come to her since he entered the room, she almost stumbled as she made her way to the bathing chamber. She stopped and grabbed her robe that had the highest neck as she passed through the alcove area. She had noticed a looking glass in the bathing chamber earlier, probably what he used when he shaved. Before she could face anyone, she had to see herself with the collar around her neck. She had to know what others would see when they looked at her. In a sudden fit of pique, she almost tore off his shirt and threw it on the floor. She approached the looking glass hesitantly. When she saw her reflection, tears filled her eyes. She certainly didn't see the Hero of Ferelden. She saw a foolish, naked elven female who had asked for the collar around her throat.

Neria thought about just removing it and telling him she had made a mistake. Her arm started to rise before she let it drop back to her side. It wouldn't change anything. He had tried to warn her before she had taken this step. Once she had said the words, it was too late. There was no turning back. If she took this collar off, she knew he would go through with his promise to put her in one with a lock.

As the misery started to settle over her, some of her pride and fight returned to her. This wouldn't be forever. Once the demon was defeated, he would release her. She walked over to where there was water for washing and picked up a cloth so she could wipe her face and hopefully remove any trace of her tears. As she was blotting her face, an awful idea occurred to her. _No, he couldn't, he wouldn't! Surely, he wouldn't refuse to release me from the promises I've made._ Another realization she had failed to consider before now hit her. While a mage initiated Templar's Protection, only the templar could end it. It was too much. The thought that he wouldn't let her go was the last straw. She would not think about any of this right now.

If only Valor was here. She missed her mabari's presence at her side so much. He had been a comfort, the one she could trust to always be there when she needed him. His absence was a hole that could never be filled.

Neria determinedly blanked her mind as she pulled on her robe. She laced it as high as it would go at the neck, effectively concealing the collar. Even though she could feel the collar with every move she made, she felt better once it was hidden. Eyeing the shirt she had discarded, she skirted past it, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor. Before she reached the door, however, she turned back in a rush and picked it up. She hung it on the hook she had taken it from. The man whose collar she wore was tidy. It was certainly less embarrassing for her to pick up after herself than to have him scold her like a child.

She paused by the door to the main room where he waited for her. Neria knew she had to go back in and join him. If she was too much longer, he would call for her to go to him. Her heart pounded, and she felt a sense of dread over the ordeal she had to face next: her public debut as the knight-commander's property.


	3. Puzzling His Way

_Greagoir:_

When he heard the door to the bathing chamber close, Greagoir shot a glance behind him, checking that Neria was truly out of the room. When he saw she was gone, he slumped in his chair and raised a hand to wipe it across his face. This was much harder for him than he would have believed possible, and he knew there was worse to come.

 _When Neria left his office, Greagoir was at a loss. She had taken him totally by surprise by her request, but he had known he couldn't refuse her. He was a templar. It was his duty to do whatever it took to help a mage stay strong and free of the continued threat of possession by a demon. The only problem was he had no idea what he should say or do, and more importantly, he had no idea how to help her. As he sat staring at his desk, he realized that he had a resource he could exploit. He jumped up and went to find his second, Knight-Captain Hadley. He told Hadley where he could find him if a true emergency occurred, but he handed all the day-to-day tasks of the tower that required overseeing to Hadley for the remainder of the day._

 _He left the office areas and headed for the templars' quarters. He said a few words in passing to the young recruit on the door before heading inside. Greagoir passed the recruits' open squad bays, the officers' quarters, and the large dining hall where the templars took their meals. He threw a rather worried look at the turnoff to his quarters, hoping that by the time he had to return there, he would have some idea how to proceed. He continued walking beyond the kitchens and the huge open chambers where stores for the needs of the large detachment of templars were kept. He finally came to a door with a large lock, and he reached into his belt pouch and took out one of the few keys that would open it. He turned the key and returned it to his pouch before opening the door and entering._

 _Greagoir stopped for a moment as he always did and drew in a deep breath. The sense of calmness that settled over him here enveloped him, and in the worry and doubt about his ability to help Neria, he more than welcomed the sensation. Greagoir had always loved books and scrolls, and many of his off-duty hours were spent in this room. The mages had their famed library, but what they didn't know was that the templars had one of their own. The templars' library was smaller and much more specialized, however. It contained all the knowledge that had been acquired over the hundreds of years the templars had stood guard over the mages. The majority of the archive was composed of the writings of prior knight-commanders. It was part of his duty to record for the future the situations he had encountered and the solutions he had found. Maker knew that over the years he had certainly found many answers to his problems in the writings of those who had come before him. This room was a closely guarded secret, known only to those templars in the upper ranks, and even fewer had the right to access the information stored here._

 _"Ser Bertrell." Greagoir didn't raise his voice. He knew the man would hear him. The templar that approached him was much different from any other in the tower. He was the only one who never wore the uniform, who took part in no weapon drill, and whose existence was barely acknowledged. Ser Bertrell had quarters nearby, and his food was delivered here daily. When Greagoir had first been appointed knight-commander all those years ago, he had been concerned about the man's living conditions, but he had come to understand that Bertrell loved his life and was satisfied. As long as he had his precious books and scrolls, he was happy._

 _"Knight-Commander," the other templar said in acknowledgement. He was a pale man made even paler by the fact that he never saw the sun. He blinked rather myopically at Greagoir, his eyes strained by long hours bent over his labors. He was dressed in soft robes and even though his job included recopying those books and scrolls that time would otherwise destroy, Greagoir had never seen ink on his hands. The man kept them scrupulously clean so he could touch his precious charges at any time. "How may I help you?"_

 _"I need information on Templar's Protection," Greagoir said. Most anyone else would have been full of questions as to why the knight-commander needed such information, but one of the things Greagoir really liked about Bertrell was the fact that he asked no questions. He didn't care why Greagoir needed to see information on various matters. It was enough for Bertrell to be able to direct him as necessary._

 _"Well, that's not a request I get often," Bertrell said, which was the most talkative Greagoir had ever seen the man. "Follow me." He led Greagoir to a reading table. "Wait here." Greagoir took a seat as he obediently waited for Bertrell to return. When the other templar walked back towards him with a large burden of books, he watched the way the man's hands almost caressed the covers of those he carried._

 _"We have a real treasure here, Knight-Commander, the complete collection of Ser Ambroise's studies."_

 _Greagoir took back his previous thought. This was the most talkative he had ever seen Bertrell. He must have inadvertently touched on a beloved subject of the library's curator. "Who was Ambroise, Bertrell?"_

 _"He was an Orlesian templar who died in 2:97 Glory. Ambroise came into possession of a mage at an early age. He devoted most of his life to studying and documenting the best ways to help mages by the use of this ritual, and his methods are still in use today. "_

 _"Really?" Greagoir asked. "That sounds like exactly what I need to see."_

 _Bertrell nodded. "I've brought you the first books. If you would like to peruse these and then let me know exactly what you are interested in, I can bring you the appropriate further references."_

 _Greagoir looked at the stack of books that Bertrell was carrying and felt a bit daunted. He realized that this could take much longer than he had expected._

 _"I need to know specifics. What did Ambroise suggest as to how a templar should proceed when the ritual is first invoked?"_

 _Bertrell set the books down gently and then dug through the stack, pulling out one without hesitation. "This is the book you should start with."_

 _"Thank you, Bertrell."_

 _Bertrell just nodded his head and ghosted off on silent feet to leave him to his reading. Greagoir reached out, grasped one of the mage lights that lit the library, and pulled it over. He opened the book and began reading._

 _Greagoir was fascinated by the wealth of knowledge he found there. He read faster and faster drawn in by the writings of the long-dead templar. Ser Ambroise suggested that the first days were the most critical and that the bond of trust that must form for the ritual to have any chance of working must have its basis laid in this timeframe. He had written of his observations and from his own personal experience._

 __"The mage must come to rely totally on his templar. He should be kept isolated from his fellow mages until this dependency has fully developed. He must not be allowed any chance to slip back into the troubled world he was seeking to escape from and must be kept in the cocoon of his templar's protection at all times until whatever has driven the mage to such a state of distress has been resolved. It may sound like a terrible thing to do to another, to deliberately foster such a dependence, but it must be remembered that these are poor souls in torment. For a mage to even consider this ritual, they must already be in a state of desperation. Those that actually invoke it are in extremis, viewing this as a last ditch attempt to find a way to live in a world where they have lost their ability to control even the simplest of things. The templar must come to represent safety and security while at the same time retaining that aura of authority that allows him to effectively control every aspect of the mage's life. The templar must remember he is now in a battle for the mage's…."

 _Greagoir felt an even larger sense of responsibility as he began to understand exactly what would be expected of him. He read on, taking in the methods that Ambroise recommended to best achieve this goal. Time passed and he knew he should be returning to his rooms and Neria, but he couldn't put down his research._

 _When he paused for a moment to rub his eyes and give them a short rest, he wondered what had driven Neria to take such a step. She had stated earlier that it was a demon, but he wondered if that was the full truth. He knew for a fact that she had destroyed more than one demon, including several here in the tower during the cleanup of Uldred's rebellion. Granted, she'd had her companions to help her, but he just couldn't see a demon defeating Neria Surana. There had to be more to her problem than just that. It would be his job to ferret that out and fix whatever it was._

 _When he returned to the next portion of his book, Ambroise covered the place for physical and emotional intimacy in this process. The templar was highly encouraged to claim the mage sexually as soon as possible to help instill the bond of trust that must develop. However, he cautioned that the templar must be certain that the mage was ready for such a step. As in all areas of the relationship, the templar should proceed in a dominant, but caring manner, controlling everything that happened, but ensuring the mage's physical and mental safety at all times. He further stated that the positive effect of the templar's touch on the mage could not be understated. The templar should not be afraid to pet and stimulate his mage as often as possible._

 _Sex was an area Greagoir had little experience in. The last woman he had been with was the whore his brothers had bought for him the night before he took his final vows. It was a long-held tradition that continued to this day, one that knight-commander after knight-commander had turned a blind eye to. It was considered a last fling because after the vows were taken, there was only, as he had once heard a mage comment, an "Andrastian five-finger salute" for relief. Unless, of course, the templar found himself in the situation Greagoir now did. It was the only time the templar had Chantry approval to not only break his vow of chastity, but was expected to do so._

 _He had known in the back of his mind that sex would be required when he had agreed to this. What he hadn't realized was how important an aspect it would be. He had many worries about sex with Neria, but the one thing that didn't concern him was desire. He had felt his body's response to her today in his office. Greagoir still found it hard to believe that with all the younger templars she could have selected, he was the one she had knelt to. He told himself that she had chosen him knowing full well what would follow. He just hoped his nervousness would leave him when the time came to act._

 _Leaving those worries for another time, he returned his attention to the book on the table before him. Ser Ambriose had a further caution for the templar who was setting his feet to this path. Everything he did must be for the good of the mage. This was not a framework for the templar to satisfy his own needs and desires. This was the highest duty a templar could be entrusted with, and he must remember to always think of the mage whose safety he was now responsible for before himself._

 _Greagoir sat back after he finished the volume Bertrell had recommended. He now had many ideas about where he wanted to start to help Neria, but he didn't have any doubt that he would be returning to this room and seeking further answers in Ser Ambroise's collected wisdom. He made his farewells to Bertrell and hurried on his way. He had a stop he needed to make before he could return to his mage._

 _He made his way back through the templars' quarters. As he was about to exit the door that led to the rest of the tower, Ser Ansel, the sergeant in charge of the door for the day, called to him._

 _Greagoir turned to face him, pushing down the distaste he felt for the man. With over one hundred and sixty templars serving under him, he couldn't like them all._

 _"Did that girl make it to your quarters okay?"_

 _Greagoir felt a rush of anger at the insinuations in the other templar's voice. He knew it wasn't helped by the fact that he still felt as if he was taking advantage of Neria because of the rather large age difference that existed between them._

 _Greagoir had learned long ago that it was much more effective for him to lower his voice than to rant and rave. He spoke very softly, but allowed a look to come into his eyes that caused Ser Ansel to jerk back in surprise. "She is the Hero of Ferelden and not a 'girl.' And yes, before you ask, she is my mage, and I expect that you will remember what that means and keep your eyes to yourself and your mouth shut. Do we understand each other?"_

 _Ser Ansel, obviously surprised by his reaction, just bobbed his head and said, "Of course, Knight-Commander. No disrespect intended."_

 _"Carry on." Greagoir turned and stalked off. After a moment, he recognized he had probably over reacted, but a smile played along the corners of his mouth as he realized just what Ser Ansel's comment meant. Neria had arrived to the quarters as he had ordered her to do._

 _He knew he wouldn't make it back in the three hours he had told her, but perhaps it would be no bad thing for her to have to wait for him. Greagoir made his way to the tower's leather worker and waited impatiently as a collar was fashioned for Neria. In the past, he had noted in a very casual way that all of the mages who were paired with a templar wore a collar, but he hadn't appreciated the significance before reading Ambroise's work. He felt a strange sort of satisfaction as he watched the man burn his name into the leather of the collar. Once it was around her neck, there would be no doubt in anyone's mind exactly whose property she was. Even though he had initially been reluctant and uncertain that he was the templar she needed, he had to admit he was starting to feel a sort of excitement, and he found himself looking forward to beginning the process of training Neria._

 _Greagoir was startled when the man handed him the collar and told him that if he wished runes of magic suppression worked in he would have to visit the tranquil's laboratories for them to be applied. He hadn't realized that was possible, but he supposed it made sense as those runes were used on the bracers that out-of-control mages were placed in for short-term restraint. He assumed it would be easy enough to transfer the same process to a collar._

 _He then went to seek out Hadley once again. He told him about Neria's request and that he had agreed to become responsible for her. Greagoir told him he was taking the next few days to attend to his duty to her, and he was leaving Hadley in charge. He gave instructions on the few things that he had pending that Hadley would have to handle. Iif there was an actual emergency, Hadley could always send for him._

 _Once that was done he went back to his office. He had one more thing he wanted to glance over before he returned to his rooms and the woman he knew was waiting for him. He dug through his desk, looking for a letter he had received weeks ago. When Neria had first returned, he had watched her with suspicion, waiting for her to begin to cause trouble such as she had done with the whole Jowan mess a few years before. He had been surprised at the quiet life she had led, and so he had sent a letter to Wynne, who was still in Denerim as an unofficial advisor to the queen, seeking information. Wynne's return letter hadn't really given him any answers, but he wanted to look it over again. Maybe now he would have more luck at plucking something out of the lines she had written._

 _The only thing that seemed significant was contained in the following sentences:_ "…I cannot help but feel that it is some guilt she carries over Alistair's death. Greagoir, she has never been the same since the night he died, and this was only compounded by the death of her beloved mabari, who lost his life defending her in that last battle. Of course, you would expect some sort of change in her with such traumatic events. Neria had loved Alistair so much and so unwillingly that when he broke off their relationship, it sent her into a rage the type you cannot even imagine. And after his death, it was gone, just like that. It was like she became an empty shell. It is just a feeling I have that there is something more, but I have no real evidence I can share with you…"

 _Greagoir sat the letter down on his desk as he leaned back in his chair considering what he had read. He was already planning to have a serious discussion with Neria to find out exactly what the problem was, but he would keep this information from Wynne in mind when he did so. He pushed the letter to the bottom of the drawer where he had found it. He closed that drawer and opened another. He removed four vials of lyrium from the holder they were in. He started to shut the drawer, but changed his mind and withdrew one more just in case. As long as he had his lyrium dose, he wouldn't be required to leave his quarters over the next few days and he could spend them solely with Neria. Greagoir gathered up a few sheets of parchment that he was in the middle of working on and that he wanted to take with him. He buried the collar within them. Greagoir didn't want her seeing it until he was ready to put it on her. After reading Ambroise's book, he was aware how important it was that he be the one to buckle it around her neck._

 _Greagoir then left his office for his quarters. When he arrived, he felt a sense of satisfaction that she was waiting in the position he had ordered. When he turned from his desk and really looked at her kneeling by the door in his shirt, he felt his age once again. She looked so young and appealing with her body framed by the material that had encased his so many times before. However, there was an almost palpable aura of pain that he could see surrounding her now that he knew what to look for. It made him want to stride over to her, scoop her up, pull her against his chest, and promise her he would find a way to end that pain for her. Instead, he firmly reminded himself of Ambriose's axiom. He must give her what she needed, not what was wanted. He reached out and thickened the Veil that surrounded her. Greagoir was pleased that she didn't seem to notice. He had worked hard on his templar abilities when he was younger, and he was pleased that they hadn't slipped from not being used much these past years._

 _He fostered a deliberate air of casualness, telling her a small white lie about why he was late. The incident he described with his men had really happened, just earlier in the day. He certainly didn't want to tell her what he had really been doing since she had left his office. He made a spur-of-the-moment decision and explained that they would go to the templars' mess to eat. Greagoir could have just sent for a recruit to fetch him food, and it would be brought here to him. However, he knew how difficult the first time she appeared in front of the other templars as his mage would be for her, and right now, he needed to keep her off balance and reeling. He had to strip her down to her lowest point so he could build her back up again. She must see him as her protecter, savior, lover, and master all rolled into one. It was a tall order, and he silently prayed to Andraste for the strength and wisdom to set the right course._

 _With a sense of trepidation, he produced the collar, and it was even worse than he had imagined. The look on her face and the fear that he could see spreading through her body made him want to toss the thing in the trash. Greagoir held firm to his purpose, though, reminding himself he was doing this for her, not to her. He called Neria to him and held out his hand, and to his great surprise, she came. He said words he hoped would make it easier for her to bear the collar, but bear it she must. She showed very little resistance as he buckled the collar around her throat. He just hoped she hadn't noticed the shaking of his hands when he did so._

 _Greagoir hardened his heart and pushed her even farther, threatening to put her in a locked collar and to take away her magic. With each blow to her self-confidence, her essential self, he felt the pain as well, and the unavoidable guilt at being the one to remove the last remaining stable bits of her world ate at his insides. Falling back into familiar patterns, he dismissed her as he would one of his recruits, sending her out of the room to change._

Greagoir slouched even farther in his chair, but still listened for her return. He leaned forward placing his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands. He thought over those last minutes, wondering if he had handled it well, not knowing what else he could have done. It had truly surprised him that she hadn't fought harder against the collar. He had half expected to have to physically restrain her to get it around her neck. He wasn't sure whether it was a hopeful sign that she hadn't put up more of a protest, an indication that she was already bending to his will, or that she was so close to truly breaking that she had lost all will to fight.

He had just a second's warning as he heard the door swing open. Greagoir immediately straightened his pose and picked up the piece of parchment in front of him. He pretended absorbed concentration, although all his senses were attuned to the woman now entering the room. Again, he probed the Veil surrounding her, but all seemed well at the moment. He continued to appear to ignore her, as he waited to see what she would do. She slowly approached, but hesitated, stopping about ten feet from his chair. He pretended to shuffle through his stack of parchments and she crept closer still. He sat back in his chair with a single sheet in his hand, and he was pleased when she sat herself on the floor at his side without a word, obviously prepared to wait for his attention. Encouraged in spite of the fact that he knew there was more for her to bear this night, he allowed his hand to fall to her head, and his fingers began a gentle stroking motion. He petted her as one would a dog, a lesser, a pet. She made no sound of protest and her body gave no sign of resistance under his touch, so he gradually allowed his fingers to drop lower, from her hair, over her face, and down her neck. It was as they reached the collar that he realized what she had done.

He pushed himself up in his chair and said sharply, "What's this?"

She turned her face up to him, and while he couldn't let her know, he felt relief at the small rebellion there. If she could fight him, even this much, then she wasn't irrevocably lost. Greagoir knew he must not give in, however. She must understand that there would only be one master in this relationship, and it would not be her. "I changed into my robes as you ordered, Ser."

"On your feet," he said in his most intimidating command voice, although he was pleased she had remembered the honorific.

She moved quickly in response and stood straight before him. He turned sideways in the chair and then took in the way she had tied the neck of her robes so as to hide the collar she wore.

"Oh no, Neria," he said. "That is not going to work. You will display the collar you wear for everyone to see. Fix it."

For a moment, there was fire in her eyes, but it died away before his frosty glare. She still didn't move though, so he lowered his voice allowing his tone to leave no doubt of his intention. "You will fix it or I will, and believe me, Neria, you won't like it if I do."

Slowly, reluctantly her hands rose. Greagoir never took his eyes off her face, and he leaned his elbow on the desk as he waited. He watched as she adjusted the neck of the robes, allowing it to fall so that his collar could be seen. He waited for her to begin to re-secure the ties before he spoke again. "Lower."

Her hands stopped mid motion, and her eyes turned a mute appeal on him before she said a soft, "Please."

It cost him a lot to ignore her pleading, but he held to his course. "Don't make me repeat a command."

Her fingers began moving again, this time untying and then pushing down the neckline. He nodded when he was satisfied, and she quickly secured the laces. She looked at the ground, a forlorn figure if he had ever seen one.

"Go over by the armor stand and retrieve the cleaning rags there," he said.

Without raising her head, she did as he had ordered, returning with them in her hands.

"I normally spot clean my armor before supper," he said. "That will become one of the things you can help me with." Greagoir stood up and held out an arm to her, and she obediently began to rub the places where his armor had become smudged during the day. The force of her personality had always been such that he had never realized just how tiny she was until today. He had to sit in the chair so she could reach his pauldrons and the top of his breastplate. As she stood close to him, moving close to him as her labors required, he could smell the fresh, clean scent of her. He was caught off guard by the strength of his desire to touch her. How fortunate for him he didn't have to restrain himself. He waited until she finished her work before he reached out and placed his palm firmly to the side of her cheek. He was surprised to realize that almost the whole side of her head fit into his hand. He couldn't resist rubbing his thumb against the edge of her jaw. Although she didn't look at him, she didn't pull away from his touch. "Thank you, Neria," he said.

Her eyes widened in surprise and met his, and the attraction he felt for her flared again. All of a sudden, it was as if his breath was caught in his chest. He tore his gaze from hers and his eyes went to her mouth. He knew all he had to do was lean forward, and he could taste the sweetness of her lips.

He stood up without warning, almost bowling her over in his haste. He dropped his hand from her face and put both of them on her shoulders to steady her. He was surprised again by the thinness of her body as he could feel her bones under his fingers. "Sorry," he said with an awkward smile and a clumsiness he abhorred. His hands lingered on her shoulders before he withdrew them. He cleared his throat and turned to the desk so he could pick up his gauntlets, seeking to hide his discomfort from her view. Feeling like a fool and worried that he had undone some of his prior work, he said gruffly, "We need to get going. They will be holding the meal waiting for me."

"Yes, Ser," she said in a quiet even voice.

He slipped his gauntlets on as he watched her pull on the soft slippers that all mages wore in the tower. He walked to the door and hesitated before opening it. He turned to her to give her some instruction. "No one should speak to you, but if they do, you may not answer. I will deal with anyone rude enough to do so. You must try to avoid looking any of the other templars in the eyes. While we are in public, you will always stand behind me, and you will follow one pace behind me to my left. The only time you may speak is if I give you a command. You may answer with either 'yes, ser' or 'no, ser.' I must have your respect in public, Neria, and your conduct must be above reproach. If you act out, I will discipline you, but I prefer not to have to do that. Do you understand?"

She gave a small, obviously reluctant nod in answer. He had watched her as he spoke, noting the way she had gone pale as her new station was laid out before her. This would be a big change from the attention she was used to garnering just from being who she was. He tried to give her a few encouraging words, however. "I know this will be difficult, but once the others become used to seeing you with me, it will be easier."

She didn't speak and wouldn't look directly at him, but followed him obediently out the door. She heeled him their whole way through the quarters to the dining hall. He could feel her eyes fixed to his back as those they passed seemed unable not to stare at her in her collar. Greagoir considered rebuking one or two of the more blatant offenders, but he realized that would just make it worse. She would have to get through this on her own. He couldn't—and shouldn't—help her, no matter how much he would have liked to.

It was as they entered the dining hall that Greagoir realized he may have made a mistake to bring her out in public so soon. Neria would be the third mage living in the templars' quarters. The other two were in long-established pairings, both who had a comfortable routine. As they came through the door and his and Neria's presence was noted, a hush fell over the room and eyes turned toward them before there was a hurried babble of voices seeking to cover the silence. Greagoir's eyes swept the room, noting Ser Davin already had his mage's leash tied to his chair. His mage always knelt behind him and ate only from his templar's hand. Ser Lorena's mage was a male who had the most hair Greagoir had ever seen. He had never seen the man's face, though. In public, he used the hair as a shield. He also knelt behind his templar, but Greagoir had never noticed him eating. Greagoir stiffened as it struck him that it would be expected for Neria to do the same. He mentally cursed himself for not thinking of this before deciding to come here tonight.

He strode masterfully through the room. If this had been a court, such as in Denerim, he would have been its king. As he approached the head table, Greagoir made a decision. His mage would not kneel on the floor. It was too much to expect from her at this point in time. It could push her that last bit too far, and that he refused to do. He made a small jump up onto the dais, distaining the few broad steps, and moved to his customary place in the center of the table as Neria trailed meekly behind him.

"Everyone on this side of the table," Greagoir indicated the right hand side with his hand, "move down one seat."

The room went quiet and glances flew from templar to templar at Greagoir's words. Greagoir ignored them and pulled out his chair. He had purposefully chosen his right for Neria to sit at because it was Hadley's normal place. Greagoir knew the man would follow his order and that it would trickle down from there. As expected, Hadley had stood and then moved to the side at Greagoir's command. "From here on out this spot is left empty. My mage will sit here." He turned to her. "Come to me, Neria," he said, and held out his hand. She looked at him with eyes so big he almost could have fallen into them, but she hurriedly placed her hand in his without a word. "Sit here," he said to her and handed her into the chair. The silence dragged on as everyone in the hall realized he had seated her before himself.

Her softly spoken, "Yes, Ser," seemed to ring through the room.

Greagoir sat down and put on the appearance of ignoring the shuffling that started to his right as people began moving from place to place. He heard the soft grumbles of templars not happy at being seated with a mage.

It was as Ser Edric, the templar at the last place at the table and therefore the one who was required to move to a lower one, was pushed out of his seat that the discontent broke out into the open.

"No, this isn't right," he declared indignantly. He looked around for support from those nearest him. As he continued to bluster on, Greagoir knew he needed to check and see if Ser Anton was shorting those templars under him on their lyrium again. Greagoir continued to try and explain to the man why that wasn't a good form of discipline, but he still seemed to not get the idea through his thick head. Greagoir made a note to himself that if Anton had done so again to issue him a direct order to stop.

Greagoir's attention returned to what Edric was saying. "….just because the knight-commander's mage-slut…"

"Excuse me," Greagoir broke in, his voice cracking like a whip through the room. Edric trailed off as attention shifted from him to the knight-commander.

Greagoir remained seated to underscore the difference between him and the other man. He modulated his voice so that it carried through the room, but not with that same power that his first utterance had. He looked directly at Edric as he spoke. "First of all, I find your conduct appalling. I should have you removed from the hall and barred until you learn manners. However, I will not do that because I want you to hear what I have to say." Greagoir let his gaze travel the room and meet the eyes of a few of his templars. "I want you _all_ to hear what I have to say. Ser Edric, move to the lower table and _sit down_." His emphasis on the last two words left no doubt in anyone's mind that the knight-commander's patience was finite. Edric did as he was told, but Greagoir could still see the resentment in the man by the way he moved.

Greagoir rested his arms on the table in front of him and leaned forward, hoping he could find the right words to express what he wanted to say. "When we first begin training as templars, we are all taught certain things that seem immutable to us. Mages belong to the Chantry. Templars guard and protect the mages. Seemingly simple concepts to understand; however, over time, meanings can change. Today, the common view is that templars guard and protect our world from mages. Some of you will be surprised to find that this was not always so. At one point in the distant past, the purpose of the templars was to guard, protect, and care for the mages, more as a partnership than it is now. How and why this mandate was changed is not relevant. Suffice it to say that today, mages are feared, and we are viewed as those who keep such dangerous individuals at bay. However, there are still carryovers from that earlier time when we were more than just the guardians between our world and the Fade. Templar's Protection is one of those."

Greagoir paused and looked around the hall. He saw attentive interest in most eyes and that pleased him. He shot a glance at Neria, but she appeared to have developed an avid interest in the plate laid in front of her. "For the benefit of those who don't understand what that means, Templar's Protection is when the individual ownership of a mage is transferred from the Chantry in general to one specific templar. It's easy in our supposed templar superiority to ignore the fact that mages are more than just dangerous creatures. We tend to forget that mages not only carry magic in their blood, but that they are people as well. And like people everywhere, they have their demons. Be glad, my fellow templars, that you are not a mage, because a mage's demons are all too real and all too willing to devour him."

Greagoir paused again and there was total silence. It was as if he was casting a spell himself with just the power of his words. "To be asked to stand between a mage and that which haunts him or her is the highest duty a templar can perform, and perhaps one of the riskiest. It's a responsibility that should not be taken too lightly and a trust that cannot be allowed to fail. A templar performing such duty must always put his mage's needs before his own."

Greagoir turned his attention to Davin and said, "I apologize in advance for my rudeness. I mean no disrespect to you or your mage." Davin inclined his head solemnly to him, perhaps understanding the importance of what Greagoir was trying to say.

"Ser Davin and his mage have been together for many years. I don't know what drove his mage to seek him out. I don't have to. It's none of my business. What I do see is that Ser Davin obviously fulfills what it is that his mage needs. I trust that he does what is best, what is required for his mage every day. I will do no less. So if I decide my mage will sit beside me, than sit beside me she will."

"And now—no, wait—I have one more thing to say before we proceed with our meal. It is my hope that every templar, the next time they are on their watch, will remember my words here and show a little kindness to those you observe so closely. Because if the Maker hadn't willed it otherwise, it could have been you with that dangerous gift in your veins and demons in your dreams."

Greagoir stood up then and proceeded to offer the traditional thanks to Andraste and the Maker, and then the dinner was served. As he sat watching the recruits on mess duty distributing the food, he couldn't help wondering what had come over him. He never explained his orders. He issued them and they were followed. Just why he had felt compelled to do so tonight, he wasn't sure, but there was a part of him that was glad he had done so. With the new ascendence of the templars in the tower after Uldred's rebellion, too many liberties had been taken. It had been too long since his templars had been reminded of the importance of a little human decency when it came to their charges.

Greagor tried to act the same as he did at every other meal, but he paid close attention to both his mage and the templars around him. He was relieved to see that the grumbling had mostly disappeared. He hoped his words had managed to get through to at least some of his men.

It was Neria, though, who had the bulk of his attention. As he ate and talked with the templars around him, his senses were all centered on her. She was quiet as he had instructed and stared down at her plate. He couldn't help wondering what she was thinking and what had her so preoccupied. It was more than just an avoidance of the situation she found herself in. She sat unmoving even after the food was served.

When Greagoir leaned over to tell her to eat, she actually jumped as if she hadn't realized he was there, but when she looked up at him, he saw something new in her eyes. A spark of life burned there that he hadn't seen in her since she had returned from Denerim. He didn't question the way his heart pounded as he gave her a small smile that was only for her. He had worried that he had pushed her too far, too fast by bringing her here tonight, but perhaps it hadn't been a total mistake. When she returned his smile with one of her own, he suddenly felt as if the two of them were in their own private world in the middle of the busy mess hall, and he felt new hope that he could help her wash over him.

Finally the interminable meal was over, and he could lead her away from the others and back to his quarters. As they walked the halls on their way, Greagoir was silent, but with every step he took he was conscious of the woman at his back. He played those moments in the hall over and over as he walked afraid he had misread what was in her expression, and in his wish to see what he had, he had seen something that wasn't there.

As he made the turn to the short hallway that led to his quarters, he realized that he could soon shift to the next portion of Ambroise's recommendations. It was time to start building her back up, and help her to understand that she could depend on him. He vowed to himself that he would not fail her or let her down. He felt a nervous fluttering in the pit of his stomach as he realized that soon it would be time for him to make his claim on her complete in the most basic way possible.

And if the desire to help her came from more than strictly duty, well, that was no one else's business than his own.


	4. Hesitancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn is coming. I promise. Next chapter even.

_Neria:_

 _As she prepared to rejoin the Knight-Commander, Neria tried to push down the panic at the thought of having all those templar eyes on her in her collar, with all of them knowing that she had asked to wear it. She took a deep breath and then another as she tried to still the racing of her heart._ You can do this, Neria Surana. You've worn a Chantry collar most of your life. Now it's just a visible one.

 _The thought didn't offer much comfort._

 _Mustering her courage, Neria walked back into the main room. She saw that that the Knight-Commander was hard at work. She approached him without speaking and then, not sure what he would expect, she hesitated trying to decide what she should do. She approached him in his chair, and then sat very quietly at his side, her head lowered submissively. He didn't take his attention from whatever he was working on, but she somehow felt a sense of his approval. She almost jumped when his hand touched her head. His fingers began to rub her scalp lightly, creating a pleasurable sensation that drove a wave of wanting through her. It wasn't so much sexual as just the unfamiliar good feeling of someone touching her. As his fingers moved lower over her face she closed her eyes, barely able to hold still as she relished each brush of sensation across her skin. When his fingers moved down her neck, and he lifted his hand when he discovered that she had covered the collar, she felt a sense of loss at the removal of his touch._

 _For a moment, fiery rebellion burned inside her when he ordered her to allow his collar to show. The knight-commander held strong, though, and that fire soon flickered and died. She moved at his will, lowering the neckline of her robe until it met his approval. She knew from the tone of his voice that she had disappointed him, and buried somewhere deep within her was a part of her that hated that fact._

 _Neria barely had time to process those thoughts before he ordered her to clean his armor. She obediently performed this menial service for him and felt his gaze watch her the whole time. She wasn't very surprised when he touched her cheek again. She drew a breath in sharply when she felt the stroking of his thumb against her jaw. When he thanked her, she was so surprised she met his gaze. She felt her pulse in her neck, light and thready, as the moment stretched out between them. When his eyes went to her mouth, she felt a distinct sense of anticipation followed quickly by disappointment when he withdrew from her._

 _Neria then listened almost in shock as he gave her the specific instructions on how she was to behave in public. She felt a flare of indignation that she should be expected to act in such a manner, but under the cool stare of the knight-commander, she had no choice but to agree._

 _When she had first considered this course after reading what Templar's Protection was, one of the things that had drawn her so strongly was the necessity to give up control. She had often thought how nice it would be not to have to think or make decisions and to not have to worry about solving everyone else's problems for a change. She would only be required to react and do the bidding of the templar she chose. She hadn't been able to remember how many times when she had been in Denerim, being feted and praised for her part in ending the Blight, she had wished to remain unacknowledged and ignored. It seemed that this night she would have that chance._

 _Neria followed behind the knight-commander on their way to the dining hall as she had been instructed. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on his back as she tried desperately to ignore those who stared at her in her collar. She felt each pair of eyes land on her and slide away. Everyone they passed spoke to the knight-commander, but not one person acknowledged her._

 _She had another shock when they entered the dining hall. She saw the other mages who had templar masters kneeling obediently behind them. Her stomach began to roil as she realized the same would be expected of her. As they made their way toward the front of the room, Neria felt a mild sense of panic set in. She truly didn't know if she could do it._

 _But then he surprised her, drawing her to him and seating her at his side. It was a gesture that caused her to begin thinking about where this all was leading. One of the reasons she had not picked one of the younger men for her templar was because she had been afraid of the risk of becoming a play toy for him. She expected to give the knight-commander her body in some perfunctory manner, but the sensations his touch caused disturbed her. Neria didn't want any unnecessary complications. She wanted this over and done with, and the demon dead, so she could take off the collar that was secured around her neck._

 _She was rapidly coming to see that there was much more underneath the knight-commander façade he wore than he ever let show. In all her years in the tower, she had never heard him speak as he had done tonight. She was frankly surprised at his eloquence. His words touched her and made her realize how lucky she was that she had picked him. He believed in his duty, and since his duty was to help her, he would do everything he could to do that._

 _As she continued to stare down at her plate, she was horrified to realize that tears were starting to form at the corner of her eyes. She had pushed everyone who had ever cared about her away because she had refused to trust anyone after what she had viewed as Alistair's betrayal and then her own guilt for his death. After Alistair and Valor's deaths, her companions had tried to help her, but she had purposefully refused to allow any of them close. Eventually, they had stopped trying and drifted away. Since she'd arrived back at the tower, it had been the same. Any attempts at friendship had been met with rebuffs._

 _She thought about what had happened between them when he had returned to his quarters earlier as she weighed that against what he said to his templars, and then she started to see things in a different light. Yes, he'd put her in a collar, but he had done it in such a way as to try to alleviate as much distress for her as he could. He could have taken away her magic, but she could still feel her connection to the Fade, as reassuringly strong as ever. When they had arrived here tonight, she had noticed the two other mages. Her eyes had been drawn to the rather obvious locks on their collars, but hers bore none. It was as if he was trying to make this whole process as easy on her as possible._

 _Neria blinked as rapidly as she could, trying to clear away those traitorous tears before anyone noticed them. As she continued to muse on this strange situation she found herself in, she realized that for the first time since Alistair she was considering believing in someone else. The Maker must truly have a sense of humor to make that person another templar._

 _She was thinking so hard that it caught her by surprise when he leaned over to her. When he smiled at her, she returned one of her first real smiles in a long time. She looked away quickly, though, unable to believe this was the same man she and the other apprentices had used to poke fun at for being so hidebound._

 _When the time came to return to his quarters, she followed behind him. She held her head up proudly. If she had to wear a collar, she was glad it was his. He didn't speak to her again, and as she followed him down the halls of the templar quarters, her new-found hope and optimism began to disappear._

It certainly wasn't helped by the fact that he barely spoke to her when they entered his quarters, and he had a severe, rather distracted expression on his face.

"You can help me out of this armor, Neria," was all he said, and she followed him over to the wooden armor stand.

She made a competent job out of helping him off with the pieces covering his upper body, leaving him in just his long-sleeved linen shirt. She wondered if he was surprised she hadn't had more difficulty. She had performed the same service for a certain ex-templar more than once, and the strapping wasn't so different.

When she started to reach for the skirt wrapped around his waist, he said rather sharply, "Leave it." She quickly dropped her hand from him and took a step away. "Wait for me by the hearth. I'll be right back."

Neria watched as he headed toward the bathing chamber before moving to the area he'd assigned her. As she sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, she felt a bit of trepidation about what would come next. She wondered if she had been mistaken about what she thought she had seen in him in the dining hall. This was more like the knight-commander she had always known. As she waited, Neria poked and prodded at the collar and ran her fingers lightly over where his name was burned into it. It still felt strange around her neck, and she had felt the collar move tonight with every bite of food she had swallowed.

She heard the door open again as he returned to the room. She didn't turn around, but listened as he moved around behind her. She tossed a look over her shoulder as she realized he was heading to the armor stand. He had his back to her as he returned his chain skirt and the other pieces from his lower body to the stand. He had thrown on a pair of breeches and that was all he was wearing. Even though he was an older man, he wore full armor every day and performed vigorous weapons drills. He was still powerfully built without a spare bit of flesh on him. She watched the muscles in his back flex and release as he moved. When he turned and leaned over to put the boots down, she caught the darker areas on his skin over his shoulders and upper back where it looked as if the sun had kissed him. She idly wondered how he had gotten those marks. His back certainly never saw the sun here in the tower.

When he was finished, he faced her, and she quickly looked away, not wanting to get caught staring at him. As she kept her eyes determinedly on the block of stone in front of her, she heard him cross to his chair and sit down. Then, there was the sound of him pouring wine into a goblet from the decanter on the table beside the chair he sat in. She imagined him taking a long drink from it. It was quiet for a few minutes after that before he said anything.

"Should we try the fireplace and see if it really works?"

She looked at him with a sense of anticipation. "May I?"

He gestured to the stone and nodded.

Neria turned and deftly pulled a small amount of mana from the Fade. She cast her fire spell on the block. It was engulfed in flames for a minute or two before they went out. However, the stone glowed from the heat that remained behind. She moved back slightly as the warmth reached her.

"That's how it's supposed to work." He had a rather far-off expression on his face. "I've lived in these rooms for years, and this is the first time there has ever been fire in that fireplace." He leaned forward with the hand that wasn't holding his goblet as if to feel the heat.

"That seems sort of sad."

"It does, doesn't it?" He then leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh and set the goblet off to his side. "I've often wondered what it means that in the quarters of the knight-commander this block of stone sits waiting for the touch of a mage."

Neria turned her eyes away from him. "What do you think it means?"

"I'm not sure, maybe nothing or maybe that once things were greatly different here in the tower." With that admission, he fell silent.

Neria watched the glow slowly fade from the stone. When she couldn't feel the heat anymore, she lifted her head and looked up at him questioningly. He just nodded, but she knew he was giving her permission to cast the spell again. Once more, her magic flared in the room and the heat radiated from the stone. Neria was surprised at how companionable the silence was between them. She felt no need to rush and fill the air with the sound of their voices.

Finally, he asked, "Do you trust me, Neria?" His tone was very soft.

She looked into the fireplace, wondering how she should answer him. She wasn't sure she knew that answer herself.

After a few moments, he asked again, "Neria?"

She sighed and turned around on the rug to face him. She drew her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I don't know. I want to." She hesitated a moment before continuing on. "I'm not very good at reading people and intentions. I realized out there," she waved one of her arms before bringing it back to wrap around her legs again, "that I don't understand a lot of what goes on unsaid between people. The world outside is much different than the tower."

"I'm sure that's true, although it has been some years since I've been out of the tower for any length of time either. I'm surprised to hear you say that, though, what with all the stories we've heard about your adventures."

She looked at him with a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "I cheated."

"Cheated?"

"I used Leliana and Zevran. They both were really good at assessing people and getting them to do things they didn't want to, especially Zevran. It used to drive Alistair crazy…" She looked away from him and suddenly developed an intense interest in the stone once again.

"You know we are going to have to talk about him, along with whatever else is troubling you."

"No. I will not," she said in such a way so as to indicate that conversation was over. Was it not bad enough it haunted her dreams? "He's dead and it's done."

"You don't really believe that, do you? If it still bothers you to talk about him, then it's not done."

"Regardless," she hesitated before going on in a rush, "I know I promised you obedience, but there are certain things I will not do or say in this case." She held her head up and looked him solidly in the eyes.

Something changed in his expression as his eyes narrowed and became colder and harder. "Do you think this is some sort of game? That you have choices? You made your last one when you chose to kneel to me." Before she could reply, he said, "Stand up and take off the robe."

Her face must have shown her disbelief because he spoke again. His voice didn't get any louder, but the power behind his words was evident. "Do as I say."

A harsh mocking laugh cut through her mind as the disappointment she felt almost crushed her. She had wanted to believe in him so badly that she had been blinded once again. _Stupid Neria, you just never learn._

She stared at his face, which was set in a remote expression, and considered refusing to do as he ordered. Neria remembered, though, his insistence over her showing the collar. She had been absolutely certain that if she hadn't lowered her robe, he would have done it for her. She had that same sense here, and knowing she couldn't hope to win a physical confrontation with him and that he had every right to her body, she slowly raised a hand to release the ties that held the robe shut. Her heart pounding, somewhere between fear and anger, she slowly opened them and shrugged the robe defiantly off her shoulders, but she never let her eyes leave his face as she did so. The only reaction she saw from him was a slight flaring of his nostrils.

"Now, the breastband."

Neria couldn't believe this was happening, but at the continued unyielding look in his eyes, she reached and undid the band, allowing it to fall away, and exposing her breasts to his view. This time her gaze slid away from his. She didn't want to watch his face as he looked at her. It was bad enough she could feel his eyes on her.

"Remove the rest."

Neria reluctantly pushed down her smallclothes and stepped out of them.

"Good girl," he said. "Fold everything up and put it to the side."

Neria felt tears trying to form at the corners of her eyes as she did as she had been instructed. _Oh no, you don't! You will not let him see you cry!_

"Stand up straight," he said once she had finished with her clothes.

Feeling like a commodity on display, Neria stood as he had directed with her eyes on the rug as she couldn't bear to meet his gaze. The moment drew on as neither of them spoke, and Neria wondered if her face was red with embarrassment. There had only been one man in her life she had ever been totally nude in front of before.

"You're beautiful, Neria."

She could hear the sincerity in his voice, but all she wanted to do was hunch over and hide herself from him, and so she remained silent.

When she didn't respond, he continued on, "First thing I want to do is establish some ground rules for you. Do you acknowledge my right to do so?"

Having just learned her lesson about challenging him, Neria didn't raise her eyes, but gave a slight nod of her head

"Excellent. These apply only when we are here in my quarters, just you and I, and not for when we are out in public. The first one of those is that the only thing you may wear is your collar unless I give you other direction."

Neria was so stunned she couldn't speak. He couldn't be serious!

"The second is that your place is on the floor. When I'm present and don't require anything of you, you will either sit or kneel very quietly at my feet. You will stay off the furniture unless I give you a specific command countering that. The next is that you will only eat what I feed you. When I extend food to you, you will take it very gently from my fingers using only your mouth."

Neria went from shock and disbelief to anger. How dare he dictate to her in such a manner and with such demeaning expectations! She swept her eyes to his face and let her temper take over. She dropped quickly to the rug and allowed her legs to splay open lewdly as she lay on her back. "Perhaps the master would like to fuck his mage-slut now," she said with deliberate crudeness in a voice heavily laced with disgust and sarcasm.

She saw him go completely still, and then watched as his eyes glanced between her legs to view what she was displaying for him. _Not such a Paragon after all, are you, Knight-Commander?_ His eyes returned to her face, and as she stared at him, she felt the pit of her stomach drop and her bravado drain away. Her heart pounded as she was suddenly uncertain as to the wisdom of having pushed him in such a way. If he chose to rise from the chair and take her here on the floor, she couldn't stop him.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the moment passed, and he laughed. This was a much different laugh from the pleasant male chuckle she had heard from him earlier in the day. This was much deeper and sent a shiver down her spine. Neria, suddenly feeling as if she had dodged an arrow, sat up, drew her legs into her chest, and wrapped her arms around them.

"You should be careful what you offer, Neria, or at least, don't be surprised if it is accepted." But he wasn't finished with her yet. "I wasn't planning on making this one a rule, but with your very helpful suggestion, I think I will. In public, you may still address me as ser, but here, you will call me master, because, make no mistake, that's exactly what I am."

Neria remained silent, looking at the rug in front of her as misery started to settle over her. The shocks and emotions were coming too fast, and Neria felt as if her world was quickly careening out of her control. She had foolishly handed herself to him, and now she didn't have a choice. He could make her do whatever he wanted, and according to Chantry law, she had no recourse and absolutely no right to say no to anything he might want.

"I think that's enough for now. I'm sure you will remember them, won't you?" He paused obviously waiting for her to speak, but she remained stubbornly silent.

"I'm waiting," he said in a tone of voice that indicated he wouldn't do so for much longer.

Neria closed her eyes, the collar around her throat feeling as though it was a lead weight. _It doesn't matter. Nothing matters._ Without opening them, she said very softly, "Yes… Master."

"Very good," he said as his voice almost caressed her with his approval.

Neria just sat huddled around herself on the floor feeling almost numb. She could hardly dare to imagine what he would demand of her next.

When he spoke once again, the edge was gone from his voice and it was more his normal tone. "Come to me, Neria." Then he held out a hand toward her.

 _This is it,_ she thought to herself. _This is when he will demand his due, and I must give it to him._ She avoided his gaze as she climbed to her feet, imagining his eyes watch her body, a swaying breast there or the tightening of the muscles in her legs and ass when she pushed herself off the floor. She slowly approached him, feeling the vulnerability of her nakedness, and put her hand in his. He pulled her gently, drawing her closer still.

"Climb into my lap."

In a state of disbelief, Neria did as directed. It took a moment or two for her to get settled as they both did some readjusting. Neria found herself cradled sideways against his naked chest and shoulder, the side of her breast lying against him. She could feel his sexual attraction to her through his breeches as his hardened penis pressed against the top of her thigh. His arm went behind and around her to support her against him. He placed his hand carefully on her leg, though, keeping it neither too far in front nor behind. She was surprised at how warm he was. Now that she was farther from the fireplace, the room's temperature was cool against her skin, but not where it touched him.

"Relax," he said softly, obviously feeling the rigidity of her entire body.

The demanding aspect of his demeanor that had been so evident a few moments ago seemed to have disappeared, and so Neria tried to do as he said. She leaned against him a little more, her cheek pressing against the hair of his chest. There was less of it than Alistair had carried, but it was wirier and she could see the glints of gray mixed with the black. Neria concentrated on just holding herself still, not wanting to do anything to inflame him. She tried to brace herself for the first sensation of him touching her breast or his hand between her legs.

But his next move was only to reach out and pick up the goblet of wine with the hand that wasn't supporting her, and she watched as it was raised above her so he could drink. When he finished, he set his arm down on the arm of the chair with the goblet still held in his long fingers.

"Would you like some?" he asked.

"Yes, please," she said. Perhaps if she drank enough, this might all be easier. He didn't move, however, and she realized he was waiting for something else. "Master," she added as an afterthought. It was no easier to say the second time than it had been the first.

As he brought the goblet near, she reached out to take it from him, but at the sound of disapproval he gave deep in his throat, she allowed her arm to fall. She sat up a little straighter as he held the goblet to her lips. He only allowed her a small sip before taking it away, and Neria felt a small stirring of sensation at this demonstration of his control over her. She carefully settled back against him once again. It felt as though he engulfed her, and she realized she hadn't been as conscious of how small her body was in a long time.

When his voice came again, she could hear the rumbling in his chest as he spoke. "Talk to me, Neria."

 _Talk to him? What does he want me to say? He certainly doesn't want to hear what I think about his rules._

"Tell me about you. The things you've done, what you like, whatever you feel like talking about."

This wasn't what she had expected, but better than what she had feared. At least he hadn't demanded she talk about Alistair.

So, she began to speak.

She told him stories from the Blight: how she had thought Leliana crazy when they first met, how Zevran had tried to kill her, Wynne and Oghren discussing ale recipes, Morrigan and shape shifting, Shale and pigeons, and Sten and his cookies. Neria only told him the light-hearted stories, the ones she kept handy to share when people asked about that time. She didn't tell him about the ones that still gave her nightmares, all the death and gore that her decisions had been directly responsible for. She also didn't mention Alistair except in passing, but he didn't press her on the subject and seemed content to listen to whatever she said.

As she talked and he responded, laughing lightly or interjecting a question or well-thought out comment, the tension gradually left her body. Yes, she was still naked, but it didn't seem quite as important. As she continued to talk, she realized that he was starting to relax. She hadn't considered that he might have been as uncomfortable as she was.

He continued to share his wine with her, but only allowing her the smallest of sips. As she watched his fingers holding the goblet, she thought about how he had decreed she was to take her meals from his hand. She didn't doubt that he would insist upon her following his rules. She admitted to herself that he had her confused. She didn't understand what he wanted or expected from her. One minute she thought he was the nicest templar she had ever known and the next he threw her for a loop with his demands.

She also wondered why he didn't go any farther and demand his right to her body. He had her nude against him, but he was obviously being very careful where he put his hands and not making any attempt to force himself on her. At first, she thought maybe he wasn't attracted to her in that way; however, she had felt his body's response when she climbed into his lap.

Neria was surprised at how comfortable she felt being held by him. Once she had recovered from her injuries taken at the Battle of Denerim, both Zevran and Leliana had tried to comfort her physically. She had torn herself away from them, unwilling and unable to accept their offerings. Oddly enough, she was starting to feel a sense of safety here in this room with his arms around her, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

She went on to tell him how each group of allies they had recruited had required something from them before they would honor the Grey Warden treaties and how that had become a big joke between her and the companions. He took her off guard as his arm tightened around her, drawing her even closer to him. "I'm sorry, Neria."

"What for?" she asked rather suspiciously.

"I'm sorry I was someone who added to your burden. I had given up hope of saving any of the mages before you arrived, and you don't know how often I still thank the Maker for sending you here when he did. I would have annulled the Circle if necessary, but it would have given me no pleasure to do so. I was thrilled when you walked out of that tower with Irving and Wynne at your side."

Neria smiled a little against his chest, remembering that moment. Other than when they had saved the village in Redcliffe that had been one of the first times she had felt like a real Grey Warden. They'd had the gratitude of both templar and mage that day, and to have earned back both the first enchanter's and the knight-commander's respect had been worth every hard-fought battle in the tower to her. "It was pretty incredible. I really had no idea what I was letting myself in for when we went through those doors."

He looked down at her, and his eyes seemed soft as he asked quietly, "You had it pretty tough out there, didn't you?"

Neria turned her face away from him as she felt tears threaten again. Damn the man. How did he keep doing this to her? She had cried out all her tears for her losses. Why was she so weepy today? She hoped he couldn't tell how he affected her, and she began to speak as a way to disguise her reaction.

"Actually fighting the Blight was the easy part. It was sort of like following directions in making a potion. First you had to do this so then you could do that. We were so busy scrambling, first in one direction and then in another, that there wasn't really time to think about how impossible some of the things we were trying to accomplish actually were. Plus, I was lucky in that the companions I acquired were so versatile. We had become a pretty cohesive unit by the time the Battle of Denerim rolled around." _And then I smashed that all to pieces in how I dealt with the loss of Alistair and Valor._ She could see it all so clearly now, even if she hadn't been able to then. "It was only after everyone returned to their own lives that things became really difficult. The tower certainly doesn't prepare you to function in a society where all of a sudden you are a well-known figure. There were too many things I would never learn or understand."

With the air of a man who had just made a discovery, he asked, "It that why you came back? Too many expectations in an unfamiliar world?"

"Partly, but the demon played into it as well. Being a so-called hero covered a lot of my gaffes, but eventually gratitude wears thin. It's tiring to have to consider everything you say or do before you do it. The Hero of Ferelden was expected to act in certain ways, but nobody ever gave me the instruction grimoire. Eventually, I just needed to be somewhere I understood the undercurrents, and that was here."

They were both quiet for a bit after her admission. As she lay cuddled against him, she looked up at his face, but he was gazing off into the middle distance as if deep in thought. When his eyes returned to hers, she was caught by the look there, and the connection she had felt in the entryway of the tower flared again. She had trouble drawing in enough air as her heart started beating rapidly. He raised his hand from her leg to rest the tips of two fingers very lightly against her cheek, and his eyes followed his fingers as he began stroking her gently. Neria stayed very still in his arms. She was extremely conscious of the power and strength of the man who held her, and her body responded to the touch of his skin against hers.

But his next words swept all the desire away as she was thrust upon shaky emotional ground. He looked into her eyes once again, and the expression there was deadly serious. "I'll make another promise to you. Here in these rooms, there are no grand expectations. The only person you are required to please is me. I promise no unreasonable quests; no relics to find, werewolves to free, or kings to declare. You can just be yourself, and you are free to say anything to me you like as long as you are honest. I'll never punish you for your feelings, belittle you for your thoughts, or judge you."

A wave of longing crashed over her. Over the past year or so, Neria couldn't count the number of times she had wanted to set aside her past and lose the guilt she carried as well as the knowledge of the deaths she had caused. She just wanted to be herself again and not have to try to live up to the expectations that people seemed to have of her. Feeling too exposed to him and not knowing how to respond, she needed to put some physical distance between them. She asked in a very quiet voice, "May I get up, please?"

Seeming to realize something of her need, he granted her permission. "Yes."

Neria quickly climbed out of his lap as he let her go. She clenched her hands to keep the shaking from being seen. She walked over to the fireplace and sank down into the soft rug with her back to him. She grasped her hands tightly in her lap and bowed her head as thoughts and emotions whirled inside her. Here with him, she had hoped to find a place where she could rest and be sheltered for a while. After all, that was the whole reason for Templar's Protection. But his words tonight were more than she had expected. This was supposed to be a simple business deal between them. He would protect her for a time, from herself as well as creatures from the Fade, and she would give him her body in exchange. Neria hadn't planned on him wanting more from her. He was asking for her trust, and her ability to trust another person with who and what she was had died the night Alistair had broken her heart. She had spent the intervening time stamping out any last bits of sentiment in her life. Neria could feel his eyes upon her, but she didn't want to face him at the moment as she didn't know how to reply to him.

But once again, he displayed an amazing awareness of her feelings and needs. "Come, Neria. It is time for sleep now. We can both use the rest." With those words, he rose from his chair and turned in the direction of the bed.

Neria watched him warily, relieved he had dropped the subject but wondering if this was the moment that she had been dreading. But again, he surprised her. He just loosened the waist of his breeches before lying down to sleep. He called her into the bed beside him, but he didn't try to touch her. He told her good night and that he would be there if she needed anything; all she had to do was wake him.

Sometime later, she still lay sleepless in his bed. He was on his back, his head turned away from her, but she could hear an occasional light snore. Neria stared at the distant dim ceiling her mind going over the events of the day. She had been surprised so many times by the things he had said and done and how quickly his moods could shift. She realized she had always seen him as a cutout stick figure, and the actual man behind that was more than she had ever suspected. She had never met anyone like him; he had managed to keep her head spinning the entire day. The way he would go from totally domineering to demonstrating a concern for her attracted Neria in a way she didn't totally understand.

Finally worn down and ready for sleep, she curled up on her side, unconsciously drawing closer to the man who slept beside her, the enigmatic knight-commander.


	5. Early Morning Delight

_Greagoir:_

He came awake in the early hours of the morning. At first, still groggy from sleep, Greagoir wasn't sure what had woken him. The warm body in the bed beside him took him by surprise, but then the events of the past day came back with a rush.

Neria stirred and mumbled a few words. Greagoir started to lie back, but then her disturbance became more pronounced as she began moving her arms and legs jerkily. He wasn't sure if he should wake her or not, so he reached over to slightly unhood the mage light that sat on the table by the bed. By the time he had turned back, her distress had escalated.

"No, no, please," she moaned in her sleep.

Greagoir reached out to touch her and see if he could wake her.

"No! No! _She's just a little girl!_ "

"Neria!" Greagoir grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her. "Wake up."

Her eyes opened, but Greagoir could tell she didn't really see him. There was an expression of hopelessness and loss on her face. Making no attempt to disguise his manipulations, he reached out and shored up the fluctuations in the Veil surrounding her.

"Neria, look at me," he said firmly.

She blinked her eyes a few times and slowly recognition seemed to dawn.

Greagoir moved his hand from her shoulder so he could wipe the tears that were leaking from the corners of her eyes.

When she started to draw away from him, he said, "Don't."

She stopped her movement and allowed him to wipe the tears away, but Greagoir thought she was probably embarrassed that he had seen her crying. Wanting to comfort her, he put his arms around her and pulled Neria against him. She offered no resistance and was limp, like a rag doll. She fit just perfectly in the hollow between his shoulder and chest, though. He cuddled her close, trying to ignore how nice her naked body felt against him as it made contact along the whole side of his body.

"Was it the demon?" he asked very quietly.

He felt her shake her head against his chest. "No, just a dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Again, she shook her head against his chest.

Greagoir decided not to push her when she was obviously upset, and so he smoothed her hair in rhythmic, calming strokes. "Do you have these dreams a lot?"

He could tell she didn't want to tell him, but finally she just said, "Some."

"I see." He figured what she really meant was often. This must be what had pushed her into making the decision to invoke Templar's Protection. If the Veil was disturbed that much with just a normal dream, he didn't want to think what it was like when she confronted the demon that haunted her.

He continued to hold her and lightly stroke her hair. When he felt her lay her hand hesitantly against his chest, he had to restrain himself from pulling her even closer. Greagoir didn't say anything for a long time, and he soon realized that she was close to drifting off. "Go to sleep, Neria. You're safe here with me."

She didn't reply, but as he continued to hold and gently caress her, he heard her breathing deepen.

At least she still trusted him enough to sleep beside him. He was upset with himself for the way he had behaved to her earlier. Greagoir thought he had been doing well in establishing the beginnings of the bond between them up until the time they had returned to his quarters. It was there he had almost destroyed any chance he had of making this work as it was supposed to.

Looking back now, he couldn't believe the strength of his reaction to her challenging him. He had been caught totally by surprise by the amount of outrage he had felt that she would tell him what she would and wouldn't do. She was his, and he had wanted to make her acknowledge that fact. Then when she had opened her legs and mockingly offered him her body, a primeval part of him had howled for him to take her, but Greagoir hadn't been a templar for decades for nothing. Fighting his own desire, he had managed to lock that snarling beast away and retain his control. He would have her, but at a time of his choosing.

Greagoir knew that was no excuse for not seeing what his harsh words had done to her. The sense of hope he had detected in her earlier had been extinguished, and she had looked so lost and broken huddled on the rug at his feet. The guilt and regret had brought him up sharply as he'd realized that he was the one hurting her when he was supposed to be protecting her.

He had tried to regroup and regain some of the ground he had made with her earlier in the day. Greagoir had been able to read her face like a book when she had walked toward him after he had called her to him. She had been expecting him to demand she let him fuck her, and obviously dreading such an event occurring. His insides had burned with shame, and he had known he had to do something to save the situation.

When she had climbed into his lap, his body had reacted to the strong physical draw he felt toward her as his cock had hardened in his breeches. He had felt himself pressing against her thigh once she settled against him, and he knew she'd had to have felt it as well. It had taken everything he had not to grind himself against her and just sit without moving. Greagoir had learned a whole new measure of willpower in holding Neria naked in his lap for as long as he had. The press of her breast against his chest, the way her breath had played along his skin when she had spoken, the warmth and softness of her body once she had relaxed, and the scent of her as it had wafted to his nose all had made those hours a test of his control.

He thought he had pushed her too hard at the end of their evening. The way she had withdrawn from him had shown him that he needed to give her time to adjust to the new situation she found herself in. Greagoir had been glad that she had made no demur at lying down beside him, and now she seemed to accept him holding her. He was relieved that he hadn't irretrievably damaged their budding relationship. He had to have her trust or it was all for naught.

The rules that he had given her were some of those suggested by Ambriose, but now he wished he had presented them to her differently. He should have known better than to do so when he was other than perfectly calm. Greagoir understood what effect they were supposed to have on Neria, creating an extremely unbalanced relationship with him holding all the power by making her vulnerable and dependent on him for her most basic needs. However, Greagoir knew he had gone too far in insisting she call him master. Now that it was done, though, he would have to enforce it. He couldn't have her see him backtracking or allow her to be anything less than obedient, especially in these first few critical days.

What he hadn't expected was how much he would like having power over her. Each time she obeyed an order or bowed her head submissively, he felt a strong surge of satisfaction, and it worried him a little bit. He was supposed to be doing his duty to the Chantry. He wasn't sure he was supposed to like it so much.

He hadn't realized just how fragile her state of mind was, but between how easy his words had hurt her, and then this episode of dreaming tonight, he knew now, and Greagoir cursed himself for not figuring it out before.

His thoughts were interrupted then as she stirred in her sleep, rubbing her pert little nose against the skin of his neck. He groaned lightly as a wave of desire rushed right to his groin. The image of her lying on the rug on the floor earlier with her legs spread open for him flashed through his mind. Maker, he was going to have to have her soon or he would end up with the bluest set of balls in the tower.

He had stated in front of every templar in the dining hall earlier that he would do what was best for her, and as much as he truly wished his rolling over in the middle of the night and thrusting himself as deep into her as he could get was good for her, he highly doubted it.

With a sense of martyrdom, Gregoir closed his eyes and began to recite Transfigurations 1:5 _With passion'd breath does the darkness creep. It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep_. Greagoir had never before realized how _suggestive_ the Chant could sound. It wasn't like it was helping anyway. He was still aware of every inch where her body touched his.

Without a doubt, it was going to be a long night.

 

______________________________

 

 _Neria:_

Never having been a morning person, Neria woke slowly. The solid warmth under her head confused her at first until she realized it was the knight-commander's arm. Blinking to clear her eyes and head of sleep, she held herself very still while trying to determine exactly what situation she found herself in. He was lying on his back, and she was pressed into the side of his body. One of her arms was curled between them with her hand tucked under her chin and her other hand rested on his chest. Sweeping her eyes up, she saw that he appeared to be asleep. Still self-conscious of her nakedness, she wondered whether she could move away without waking him up.

She slowly lifted her hand off his chest and picked her head up in preparation to push herself backward. He stirred, however, rolling onto his side toward her. The arm that was behind her head wrapped down around her body pulling her closer to him while his other arm came to rest over her hip. She held her breath listening, but he seemed to still be asleep. The only difference was that now she was firmly caught in his arms.

Ignoring the part of her brain that told her just to lie still and enjoy the sensation of having someone hold her, she tried to figure out what she should do next. It didn't take her long to realize that even though he was asleep his body was awful glad to have her beside it as she felt his morning erection pressing against her. She suppressed the giggles that discovery gave her as she told herself firmly to grow up and act like an adult.

Neria lay there for a few minutes remembering what had happened in the middle of the night when he had woken her from her dream. The relief she felt that she didn't have to worry about accidentally sundering the Veil anymore was almost overwhelming. There had been templars in Denerim and even here in the tower, but she hadn't realized that she had been spoiled by having Alistair for her personal templar. Neria was surprised how good it felt to have that once again with the knight-commander, even though the circumstances were greatly different.

She also thought about what had happened in this room last night when they had returned from their meal and the things he had said. She realized now that she had been naïve in thinking that this would be a simple arrangement. His revelations last night of how he expected her to behave and to please him both titillated her and made her want to challenge him at the same time. She was also conflicted about his offer to just let her be herself with him. To not have to guard her tongue before speaking would be a wonderful thing, but again she would have to trust him. Could she allow herself to let him that close and to truly share her thoughts and feelings with him? With that came the possibility of him hurting her, and she had taken care to arrange her life in such a manner that there was no one who could hurt her as deeply as Alistair had. However, in doing so, she had cut herself off from people, and the isolation she felt late at night lying in her lonely bed often overwhelmed her.

He stirred in his sleep, momentarily tightening his arms around her and that pulled her away from her introspective thoughts. Looking at him lying beside her led her to think about the way he made her feel physically. Neria had felt a strong pull toward him last night, and she knew that it was inevitable that sooner or later they would end up having sex. The more she thought about it, the more she thought they just might as well get it over with. She was starting to suspect he was feeling as awkward about it as she was. She looked at him with a critical eye, trying to look at him as a man, not as the knight-commander.

The first thing she did was admit her attraction for him. She liked the air of command he carried from his years of being in charge of the templars. Even though it made her uncertain of how she wanted to relate to him, she had to admit she was starting to feel a sense of fascination at the glimpses she had caught of the man he kept hidden from the world. Neria looked at his arm as it lay across her hip and thought of his hand that she had held in hers yesterday. His fingers were long and well-shaped, and she remembered the roughness of calluses caused by years of swordplay as they had caught against her own smooth skin. She felt a slight sense of excitement at the thought of that hand touching her breast or slipping between her legs. Her eyes went to his chest, large and muscular, and then up to his neck. She could see where his skin was starting to loosen there as the years took their toll, and she wondered if she pressed her fingers or her lips against it, if the skin would be as soft as it looked.

She looked at his face next, again, the years showing in the lines she saw there. She had always thought him so solemn and had never really seen him smile, but this past day had been a revelation to her. She had seen him relax with his templars at the dinner last night, and there had been plenty of smiles. He had even smiled at _her_. Maybe those lines around his mouth weren't all from frowns at foolish young mage apprentices. She tried to imagine what it would feel like if he were to kiss her, wondering if his lips would be soft or firm and how the hair of his beard and slight mustache would feel against her skin. The prominent cheekbones and sharp line of his nose again spoke of strength to her, and she even found the gray mixed in with his brown hair attractive. It just seemed to suit him somehow.

Her eyes swept down his body. He was so much larger than her that he made her feel tiny. She thought if he ever put his full weight on top of her, she would be crushed beneath him. She admired the way his body tapered from his chest to his waist, with no sign of the overhang that many men his age had begun to develop. The line of hair that flowed down his center and into his breeches made her want to reach out and run her fingers along that same path. She had been so shy with Alistair, thinking they would have plenty of time to explore and pleasure each other, that she had never done some of the things to him she would have liked to try. She'd had no idea just how short their time together had been slated to be.

Remembering that, she boldly reached out and ran her hand across the skin of his chest, tangling her fingers in the patch of hair between his nipples. Wanting to know if he tasted as good as he felt, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his skin. She followed the same path her hand had taken, and she grew braver, opening her mouth and allowing the tip of her tongue to graze him with each kiss. She felt the movement of his chest change as he woke, but he made no movement to either stop or encourage her. Once she arrived at the center of his chest, she moved outward toward his nipple. She circled it lightly with her tongue and she felt the response of his body as his hips pressed toward her and the tip of his nipple grew hard.

His hand came up to cup the back of her head lightly while his other rested against the skin of her back. He groaned her name softly when she sucked gently against that hardened peak. After a few moments, she moved on, trailing her lips and pressing light kisses down his lower chest to the planes of his abdomen. She could hear his breathing was a little ragged now, and she gave him little nips with her teeth around his belly button. His hips jerked with each one, and he groaned again when she dipped her tongue into the depression of his navel.

It was when her fingers reached into the loose waist of his breeches that she felt his hand in her hair. He pulled her head slightly so she was forced to look up at him.

"If this goes any further, there will be no stopping," he said. "My control only goes so far."

"I know." She started to return her lips to his abdomen; however, he pulled again on her hair holding her head still. "I know, Master," she said, amending her statement. He loosened his grip, but kept his fingers in her hair as he rolled from his side to his back.

She moved closer to him and then sent her hand down the loosened front of his breeches. Neria was surprised to find he wasn't wearing any smallclothes when her fingers found his warm cock. Using her forefinger, she traced along the head, avoiding the slit in the middle. She heard his breathing speed up, and his cock bobbed as she ran just the tips of her fingers down from the head to his base and then back up again, learning his length and girth in the process and enjoying the sensation of his skin under her touch. He felt like steel sheathed in satin.

Neria pulled that hand back out and using both hands opened the laces even more on his breeches. She tugged meaningfully on the cloth, and he helpfully raised his hips so she could work them down. She moved so she could pull them entirely from his body.

With the breeches no longer containing him, his cock lay long and straight against his body. He was fully engorged, and Neria thought she could almost see it pulse with each beat of his heart. She ran her hand down him once again, wrapping her hand at his base to lift him into the air, and without a pause, she leaned down to take him into her mouth.

As his head slid past her lips, she felt his fingers in her hair again, and he murmured, "Oh, yes." His voice was thick with desire, and his hips pressed towards her as she slowly allowed more and more of him into the warm heat of her mouth. When she had enough that she felt as if she might choke, she pressed against him with her other hand and he quit pushing into her. She laid her tongue firmly against the underside of his cock as she applied suction against him, sucking him rhythmically. She heard him groan again, but he continued to hold himself still. She then pulled back so she could run her tongue around his head and along the slit in the center. She could taste the slightly salty tang of his pre-cum, and then she began to lick him all the way down his shaft and then back up again. She had moved her hand from his base and slipped it down to lightly grasp his sac as he obligingly opened his legs for her. She squeezed his balls gently, first together and then individually, and she felt his hands begin to move. One stayed on her head, fingers scrunching through her hair, but he ran the other down her neck, over her collar, and then down her back to grip her ass.

Her body seemed to move on its own, her knees widening and opening her up in a clear invitation. Those long fingers she had mused about earlier took up that invitation as she felt him run them up the slit in her body. He didn't enter her pussy, but contented himself with playing with her folds. Neria wondered if she should be embarrassed at how very wet she was. It had been so long since she had touched or been touched, and when his fingers made contact with that delicate nub of flesh that was normally hidden away, she almost swooned.

Excited beyond bearing now, she released him from her mouth and moved to straddle him. Somewhere in the back of her mind there was a voice saying _I can't believe I'm climbing onto the knight-commander's cock_ , while another, more practical part chipped in saying it didn't care who the aforementioned cock belonged to. It was here; it was hard; and it needed to be inside her right now.

Neria grasped him and brought him to rest just at her entrance. She took a moment to savor the anticipation. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the man lying beneath her. This had nothing to do with him; it was for her, to ease her need. She gently began to lower herself over him feeling as his head forced open her hairless lips and then began to press into her body. Her cunt was tight from lack of use, and so she took him in little bits, raising and then lowering herself a little more each time. As the moisture from her excitement coated his cock, he slid farther and farther inside, the walls of her cunt stretching to accommodate him. She felt his hands come to rest against her hips, but as he made no demands, she ignored them. Finally, after what seemed like forever and yet too short a time all at once, she felt her pelvis pressed against his as he was fully sheathed inside her. She paused savoring the sensation before throwing her head back, still with her eyes closed, and then she began to rock against him. She sought to have him rub that special spot inside her, and when he did, she moaned as her inner walls clamped around his cock, demanding more. Her hips began to thrust against him, harder and harder, as she approached one of the strongest orgasms she had ever had in her life.

She had only a moment's warning when she felt his hands tighten on her hips. She was picked up and off him, and in one smooth motion, he rolled to the side and tossed her onto the bed on her back. Her eyes flew open at the impact, and her breath went out in a solid whoosh of air. He was on her so fast she barely realized what was happening. He straddled her, grabbing her hands by the wrists and raising them above her head. He held them trapped against the bed, holding her in place beneath him.

His face was close to hers as he leaned down to speak. "Oh, no, Neria. You will only come with my permission, and most especially, you will acknowledge that it is my touch that causes your release and not some phantom memory."

His eyes bore into hers with a new-found intensity, and the unyielding demand she saw there caused her heart to start beating faster. She could feel the strength in his grip as he held her wrists, and his voice left her no doubt that he meant every word he said. She felt totally defenseless. Even her magic, her strongest weapon, would be useless against him. She had seen how easily he stripped a mage from their connection to the Fade in the past, and knew he could do the same to her with hardly any effort. Part of her wanted to fight him, to let him know he couldn't treat her like this, but there was another part of her, one that had remained hidden her whole life, who wanted to accede to his demands and become his in truth. Neria had promised him obedience and had every intention of honoring that vow, but she hadn't had any idea the extent he would demand of her. The silence stretched out as she continued to hold his gaze, but the power in his expression never faltered. Neria felt her will begin to crumble and then break as it succumbed to his. She lowered her eyes and nodded.

"Not good enough. Tell me."

Her tongue darted out of her mouth to wet her suddenly dry lips. "I-I will not come without your permission."

"Good girl." His voice was laced with approval, and Neria felt an answering thrill in her belly. "If your body reaches the point where it feels like you can't hold back any longer, you will tell me immediately. Understand?"

"Yes… Master." Neria looked up at him almost shyly as she stumbled over the word. This was the first time since he had ordered her to call him such that it had any meaning for her; before, it had been just a word.

He seemed to understand the difference as well, and she saw a look she could only interpret as triumph come into his eyes as he shifted position to kiss her. He let go of her wrists, and his hands grasped both sides of her face, pulling her toward him as his mouth covered hers. There was nothing gentle about his kiss. It was a claiming, a declaration of his ownership, but she had no intention of refuting him. She remained almost passive as his teeth cut into her lips and his tongue thrust into her mouth. She moaned as sensations she didn't know existed began coursing through her at his display of dominance. She didn't care if he hurt her; all she wanted was more of his touch. She pressed herself against him, trying to put as much of her body against his as she could.

At her lack of resistance, his kiss became gentler, his tongue stroking her instead of almost gagging her with his aggressiveness. His grip on her face eased and his lips left hers to press a kiss to her nose, to her eyebrow, her cheekbone, and finally her ear. When his lips touched her ear, she writhed beneath him as desire rushed right to her pussy. He chuckled at her reaction, seeming to realize he had found a weakness to exploit.

"You're mine," he said, speaking quietly in the vicinity of her ear.

She wasn't sure which thrilled her more, his words or the feeling from the touch of his breath against her skin. His lips traced a line down her jaw as his hand slipped to her breast. When his fingers found her nipple and lightly rolled it, she felt another wave of sensation rush through her. She tried to grind herself against his erection, but he pulled his knees up under himself to raise his body out of her reach. He was still straddling her, but not allowing her any contact.

"Patience, Neria. Good things come to those who wait."

A shiver went down her spine at his implied promise. His mouth dropped under her chin, and she felt him give her neck a long lick under her collar. She rolled her head back to give him better access.

"Have I told you how much I like seeing you in my collar?"

The feel of his lips moving against the sensitive skin of her neck again brought her body off the bed in an instinctive reaction as it sought his. Her eyes rolled shut as she said, "N-No." She was starting to lose coherence as his deliberate assault on her senses affected her. His fingers hadn't stopped their teasing of her nipples, and Neria had never felt such an ache between her legs as she did right now. She would do anything to get him to touch her there.

"Well, I do." He gave her a swipe of his tongue lower on her neck, below the collar this time. "I like that everyone knows at a glance exactly who you belong to." He moved down and licked the top of her breast. "And even better, I like seeing you naked in the collar." His words sent another wave of desire pulsating between her legs.

His mouth latched onto her nipple. He put his teeth against the swollen bud and bit just hard enough that pain felt like pleasure. She grabbed a hold of the sheets under her and clutched them tightly in her fists. She moaned low in her throat as all her muscles from her chest to her thighs tightened in response.

"Hm, I think you like that," he said as he raised his head. "Let's see how you like this."

He captured her other pink-tipped nipple, but this time, he didn't use his teeth. He sucked hard against her, pulling and releasing a few times before swirling his tongue around the tip. Neria put one hand to his head to pull him closer. Her hips were moving constantly now, futilely seeking a release from the pressure he was causing to build. "Please," she said. "Please!" Neria's body was one whole mass of need and want as she writhed on the bed. She thought she might explode if he so much as touched her clit.

"And just what is my Little Beauty asking for?"

Neria's breath caught in her throat at his words. This was followed closely by a feeling of anticipation as one of his hands ran down her abdomen. "Touch me, please, please." Her breathing was loud in her ears, and as his fingers dipped ever lower, she shamelessly threw her legs open even further. "Yes."

She could have screamed with frustration when he paused just as they reached the mound of her sex.

"We're forgetting something, aren't we?"

She allowed her eyes to show her question as she looked at him. "What?" she asked rather shakily.

"I'm assuming from the way your body is moving, it wouldn't take much to push you over the edge." His voice was like rough gravel as it rumbled out of his chest.

She nodded her agreement to that.

"But you don't have permission for that yet, do you?" he asked.

Maker, the man was going to make her beg for him. His forefinger began to run up and down her slightly open nether lips, but never dipping between them. The added teasing was enough to overcome even that hurdle. "Make me come. Please, let me come," she said as she pushed herself against his hand.

He leaned close to her, and she felt his facial hair ride up the side of her face as his lips headed for her ear. "Such pretty pleading makes me want to say yes, but…" his voice trailed off significantly.

Neria, afraid he would deny her, broke in. "Please, Master, please!"

"Ah, much better," he said.

He changed position to lie over her, taking most of his weight on his knees and one arm. He took his cock in his hand and pressed against her center. He wasn't gentle, pushing all the way into her in two rapid jerks of his hips, but she didn't care. She was already wet and open from having him inside her earlier. Neria rose eagerly to meet his thrusts, crying out for him not to stop, urging him to pound into her harder and faster. She wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to get as close to him as possible. She became almost frantic in her need as he drove her ever higher. She could detect the sexual excitement that he felt reflected in his body; his breathing, the tautness of his muscles, the involuntary cries as he rode her cunt, and the sweat that slicked both of them; all served to tell her he was as affected as she was. Her body began to demand release, but she tried desperately to control that impulse as with each snap of his hips his cock brushed over and over that sweet spot inside her.

Finally, when she thought she couldn't bear anymore, he said in a ragged voice. "Now, Little Beauty. Come for me now!"

With his words, Neria let go of all her mental restraint and just allowed her body to feel. As he rammed home one more time, it pushed her that final bit over the edge into oblivion. She threw her arms around his chest, and with her legs already clamped around his hips, she clung to him fiercely as the greedy walls of her cunt clamped around his cock and convulsed. A moment later she heard him call her name and felt the rhythmic pumping as he reached his own orgasm. All the muscles in her body stiffened as she gripped him as if he was her only support in the world.

How long she shook and quaked against him, she couldn't have said, but finally she was able to loosen her muscles and ease her grip on his body. He allowed some of his weight to come to rest on her pelvis as he looked deeply into her eyes. Neria felt a momentary impulse to drop her gaze before his, but now that her body's desire had been sated so thoroughly, she met his eyes without flinching. Even though his dominating manner had roused feelings of submission in her and caused her mind and body to respond so eagerly to him, she now felt the need to assert her own personality. He seemed to understand her challenge, but rather than escalate a battle of wills between them, he smiled sweetly at her and the expression in his eyes softened. Neria felt a slight blush rise to her face as once again he disarmed her. She allowed those adversarial feelings to drain away as she gave him a soft smile of her own. He said nothing, seeming to not want to break the spell between them any more than she did. The knight-commander then wrapped his arms around her back and hips, holding her tightly against him, and rolled to his back, cradling her against his chest. His breathing was still labored, but starting to return to normal.

As she lay quietly on his chest, she realized she could hear his heartbeat, and she listened as it gradually slowed. She had never been cuddled like this before, with a man still held inside her body as he gradually softened. She and Alistair, always conscious that the bedding they were lying in was the same they would be in the next night, had always rose and cleaned up immediately after sex.

As his hands caressed her skin, she found she liked this time, the silence between them broken only by quiet murmurs and gentle touches. For the first time in almost as long as she could remember, she felt contentment swell inside her as he held her in his arms.

But life had taught her too cruelly how quickly happiness, and even contentment, could be snatched away, leaving behind only misery and regrets. Neria resolved to hold onto this feeling as long as she could. The only thing she knew for sure was that sooner or later something or someone would try and take it away from her.


	6. Some Play Before Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Bondage and oral sex

_Greagoir:_

 _Months later_

"Good morning, Master."

The sultry voice in his ear caused a warm feeling to spread through his stomach as he lay in his bed with his eyes still closed. He opened them and looked down at the naked woman curled up at his side. "And so, Little Beauty." It was all he had to say. He had been conditioning her to respond to his use of the nickname, and she knew what would follow. He watched approvingly as her eyes lit up in anticipation and her nipples hardened. If he felt between her legs she would already be wet. He leaned over to kiss her cheek before saying very quietly, "Belly."

At his order, she rolled sinuously to her stomach and laid her hands on either side of her head with her palms flat against the bed. Her dark eyes watched him as she waited for his next command.

Instead, he reached out and picked up one of her hands by the wrist as he sat up, and then turned to put his feet on the floor. He extended her arm, noting the total lack of resistance as he did so. He reached down by the corner of the bedpost and picked up the cuff that was dangling from it. He wrapped the cuff around her wrist, and then buckled it closed. He rested his hand on her head for a moment as his eyes searched her face for any hint of distress before he rose and walked around the bed. He repeated his actions on the other side, so she was restrained face down on the mattress with both arms extended above her head.

He walked to the foot of the bed. "Position."

She moved immediately, sliding as far down the bed as her restraints would allow so her arms were stretched straight. She went to her knees and opened them widely as she pressed her forehead to the bed. She raised her ass as high in the air as she could with her knees spread apart, and then she held herself still and waited his approval.

He took a moment to admire the beautifully submissive picture she presented. He felt a stirring in his groin at the sight. In this position, she offered either her ass or her cunt for his pleasure, and he could see both her puckered hole and the glistening inner lips of her pussy. He climbed onto the bed behind her and took her twin cheeks into his hands. He liked how the globes seemed to fit exactly in his palms. He kneaded them gently as he noted the scent of her arousal in the air. He allowed his thumbs to slide inward and down to open her lips up even further. He felt a tremor run through her, but her hips didn't move. He adjusted himself then, long familiarity placing him into the exact position he needed to easily access her, and slid his hands to the outside of her hips.

He began with small flicks of his tongue to the delicate folds that surrounded the cleft in her body. He carefully avoided that small nub of flesh that caused her such enjoyment as he didn't want to end things prematurely. He could tell she was getting more excited as the taste of her became stronger, but she still hadn't moved her hips. He put a little more pressure against her body before thrusting his tongue inside her without warning. He heard her intake of breath and felt a tremor go through her, but otherwise she still didn't move. He ran his tongue in and out of her quickly a few times before slowing down to lap at her lovingly. He heard her breathing, harsher and faster now, as she fought the instinct to grind herself against his mouth.

He pulled away from her, leaving only his hands at her hips. His Little Beauty was a responsive creature, and he knew how difficult it was for her to hold herself still. He was pleased she was doing so well, but it was time to up the difficulty for her. He moved up behind her, using one hand on her hip to guide her to where he wished her to be while grasping his cock with the other. He pulled back on her body, and she willingly sank down over him as he knelt behind her. He closed his eyes as the feeling of her warm, wet heat encasing his cock washed through him. He pushed her forward a little bit, so even with the restraints, she could come up on all fours, and he was able to press into her completely. Maker, he loved that feeling. He grasped her hips with both hands again.

"Stay." He didn't really have to tell her. She knew what was expected of her, but he followed their normal routine, including the commands.

He jerked his pelvis back and forth, sliding his thick cock in and out of her. He could feel her nonstop trembling as she fought the desire to push herself against him. Her mind prevailed over her body, however, and she remained still, passively accepting his thrusts.

The first few times he had asked this of her she hadn't been able to remain still for more than a few thrusts. Experience had taught her to rule her body mentally; however, and now she could stay quiescent beneath him for much longer. Quickly growing bored with this portion of their game, he decided to bring it to an end. He ran one of his hands to the front of her body between her legs without stopping his thrusts. His fingers quickly located her clitoris and with just a few strokes of his fingers, her control broke.

Her hips gyrated, pushing back to shove herself more firmly against him, and then moved forward again to encourage his fingers not to stop their work. As Neria wouldn't speak until he gave her permission, she whined low in her throat in apology, and he thought it important enough to soothe her that he came to rest while buried deep inside her. He ran a hand up her back and leaned over her to press a kiss to one of her shoulders.

"You did well, Little Beauty. We can try again another time." He moved his lips to the back of her neck, just above her collar, and pressed another light kiss there before he said, "Now, show me."

With his command, her body began to undulate as she ground herself against him. The little grunts and moans she made only served to heighten his pleasure.

"Oh, yes," he said almost in a whisper as he allowed her to work her body against him. She was limited in her motion by the restraints and his positioning, but he enjoyed every twitch of her body. He ran his hands up her torso and grasped both her nipples in his fingers, rolling and tweaking them gently, and her movements became even more frenzied.

As his hips returned to motion, thrusting into her as she pushed back against him, he said, "Tell me."

"It feels so good, Master. Don't stop, please, don't stop."

She continued to speak, telling him exactly what she felt and how much she enjoyed what he did to her. As her orgasm moved closer, she began begging him to let her come. No matter how often he heard her pleading for permission, it never failed to thrill him. He picked up the pace of his thrusts as the pressure at the base of his balls began to build. He put some of his weight against her and she immediately dropped to the bed with her upper body, but kept her pelvis in the air. He leaned forward then, placing his hands on the bed above her shoulders so he could thrust even harder into her. When he was close to orgasm, he pulled himself part-way out of her pussy and began a series of fast, short strokes with his hips so that just the head and the upper part of his shaft passed rapidly in and out of her.

"Come now," he demanded, his voice hoarse as he felt his own release begin. He thrust one more time deep inside of her and then covered her with his upper body, wrapping his arms between her and the bed and crying out incoherently as his cock spurted inside her. He felt her pussy squeezing rhythmically around him in response. Her breathing, much as his own, was coming in short pants as the sweat dripped from both of them.

He kept his arms around her as he dropped soft kisses over the back of her neck, shoulders, and the side of her face. He then rolled slightly to take his weight on one of his elbows as with the other hand he tenderly pushed the strand of hair away that had fallen onto her face. His eyes searched the part of her face that he could see, looking for any signs of discomfort or distress. He was so used to watching her and making sure nothing they did upset or frightened her that, even though they had done nothing they hadn't done a hundred times before, it was instinctive for him to monitor her mental and physical condition. Seeing only a contented satiation in her expression, he pressed another light kiss to the corner of her mouth. Still not saying anything, he rose from her body, mourning the loss of the connection between them as he slowly slid from her wet slickness. He pushed himself up off the bed and headed for one of the bedposts.

He carefully unbuckled one of her restraints, freeing one arm. He moved to a chair deliberately positioned by the bed and, still totally nude, sat down. Aside from when he actually came, this was his favorite part. "Clean yourself."

He watched with burning eyes as she rolled to the side whose arm was still restrained, resting her head on her outstretched arm. She met his gaze and slowly raised her leg, until her toes were resting on her knee. She knew exactly what this did to him and how to draw it out. He licked his lips as the hand he had freed moved slowly between her legs. He emitted a small moan when she pushed her first three fingers inside her cunt and then removed them, now covered in his cum. He held his breath as she brought her fingers to her mouth. Her eyes never left his as her pink tongue emerged to lick her fingers. When she sucked lightly on the tips of them, he felt his cock stir once again. He often had her lick his cock and balls clean after such a display, but that inevitably led to further… stimulation. Something he regretted he couldn't allow this morning.

He sat for a few minutes just enjoying watching her as she waited patiently for him to release her. He still marveled at the trust she showed him. He knew she would never permit anyone else to have the level of control over her that she allowed him. He understood that part of it was the situation they found themselves in, but she still gave him much more than was required. He wondered daily just why she had chosen him and had never been able to come up with a satisfactory answer.

When he asked her, she'd just smiled and said, "Because." He had played with the idea of ordering her to answer, but that was a slippery line for him to cross. He had tried to never force her into revealing her thoughts or feelings, preferring to wait until she was willing to share such things with him.

He rose from his chair, went to the bed, and released her other wrist from the restraint. He brought her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss upon it before sitting on the edge of the bed and gathering her against him. He kissed her long and deep, tasting himself on her lips, but he had long become accustomed to that. Finally, he broke the kiss and said, "Beautiful as always, thank you."

She snuggled closer to him. "You're welcome."

She placed gentle kisses across his neck and chest, and all he wanted to do was spend the day with her here in bed. Unfortunately for him, however, playtime was over. He needed to lock this part of him away, don his armor, and become the knight-commander once again.

_________________________________________

A few hours later, Greagoir finally was able to take a break from his work. He was in his office with the door shut, and he had already handled a discipline problem with one of his templars, gone over the list of mages whom he and Irving needed to decide between tranquility and harrowing for, as well as dealt with a mound of paperwork. He had left Neria in his quarters with a fresh stack of books from the library that the first enchanter had sent over for her.

He sat back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk, and rubbed his hands across his eyes. He thought about these past months. They had started out rather rocky, but then he hadn't expected it to be easy. There had been stops and starts in their relationship as they both adjusted to roles they hadn't filled before. As he had become more dominant, she had descended deeper into submission. Slowly, she had begun to smile and then laugh when they were alone in his quarters, although she had still held parts of herself away from him emotionally.

Neria had been quick to trust him physically. She had never made a demur, no matter how he bound her or what he did to her flesh. He had continued reading Ser Ambroise's work for guidance and had learned about the importance of establishing a safe word. As hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do, he had asked her to choose one. Neria had said she could still remember the sense of joy and freedom she had felt at the sight of a meadow full of wild flowers with butterflies flitting from one to the other as she traveled to Ostagar with Duncan, and butterfly was the word she chose. That had been the first time she had shared something about her feelings with Greagoir voluntarily, and he had felt a sense of encouragement that he was making progress. After that, he had tried to keep a firm rein on his impatience as he had come to realize that Neria had never truly trusted anyone in her life, and it would take time for her to overcome a pattern of a lifetime. Greagoir had spent weeks holding her tenderly after their lovemaking, stroking and reassuring her, before she began to confide in him. At first, it was just small things, but as she slowly began to trust him with her inner self, she began to reveal more and more.

It had only been within the last week that she had begun to speak of Alistair, and last night, she had finally told him all of it. It had pained him how she had spoken in a flat voice with her eyes closed as if even now she needed to hide from him. When she told him of Alistair's callous dismissal of their relationship in front of all her friends, he had seen a few tears leak from between her eyelashes. Greagoir had been filled with conflicting emotions and thoughts, and it had been difficult for him to remain calm. He had wanted to kill the young man all over again for hurting Neria so deeply. Greagoir realized just how much he was coming to care for his elven mage when he acknowledged that he was jealous that even after all this time she would cry for the man who had spurned her. All he had been able to do was pull her closer against him and offer the physical comfort of his presence. His heartfelt, "I'm sorry," hadn't seemed enough, but it was all he'd had to offer.

She had lain passive in his arms for a few minutes before she continued talking. She had told him of the sacrifice that the Wardens had to make, and he was horrified when he heard that it had been her plan to be the one to make it. By the end of her story, he had felt a little less harsh toward Alistair. He had redeemed himself somewhat in Greagoir's eyes by taking that final blow himself. Greagoir had tried to alleviate the guilt that Neria felt by telling her it wasn't her fault that her prince had died, but he wasn't sure if it had done any good. Greagoir had even told her he agreed with her decision about this Morrigan and the ritual she had offered. It had certainly sounded like blood magic to him, and Maker knows _nothing_ good ever came from that.

The demon had been quiet these past months. Greagoir had eventually added the Fade-blocking runes to Neria's collar. Whenever he wasn't with her or when she slept at night, he had activated them to keep her safe. This severely limited the demon's opportunity to approach Neria. In order to keep her from becoming Fade sick, though, she needed to roam the ethereal plane at least once every few days. Greagoir had stood guard over her at such times. That had worked these past months, but it was no long-term solution. The creature would have to be dealt with, and it was his duty to do so. He had been waiting to gain Neria's trust completely. If he was going to have to confront the thing, he needed to know he could count on her to obey his orders without hesitation. Now that he felt more confident in her, the time was approaching when this situation had to be addressed. He had an idea or two about how to accomplish this, but he needed more information.

Greagoir pulled his feet off the desk and rose. He stopped and spoke a few words to his latest aide on his way out of the offices and told him that if any difficulties arose while he was gone to notify Knight-Captain Hadley and have him handle it. His duties covered there, Greagoir headed back toward the templars' quarters. He made his way down the long hallways to the library, once again pulling out his key to gain entrance.

"Bertrell," Greagoir said and looked to the left.

Greagoir almost jumped when the man silently appeared on his right and said, "Yes, Knight-Commander?"

"I hate when you do that!"

"Apologies," Bertrell said, with a slight bow of his head.

Greagoir knew better, however. He was convinced the man was silently laughing at him. "I need some information."

Bertrell just raised an eyebrow.

"Have you ever heard of the story about the unassuming templar? No, wait a minute. That's not right." Greagoir paused for a moment. "You know, the one about the templar whose sister was haunted by a demon."

"I believe the knight-commander means the luckless templar," Bertrell said with a note of haughtiness. "Ser Adrian, unwisely seeking to save his younger sister from the attention of a Fade spirit, attempted to summon the demon on his own, using his sister as the focus. He was unable to stop her possession, however, and ended up having to kill her himself. The abomination injured him in the process, but he refused healing from any mage and ended up dying a day or two later. Does this help you?"

"Yes, that's it. I need any information you have pertaining to the actual facts around the story."

Bertrell crossed one arm in front of his waist and brought his other hand up to his face so his fingers could tap above his upper lip. "Hum," he said, obviously lost in thought and speaking more to himself than Greagoir. "That would have been Knight-Commander Belenus. No, perhaps Taranis instead." Bertrell dropped his arms. "One moment, Knight-Commander, let me see what I can find."

Bertrell rushed away, obviously consumed by Greagoir's request. Greagoir just shook his head at Bertrell's enthusiasm and headed towards the reading tables. Greagoir sat down, closed his eyes, and allowed his mind to drift as he waited for Bertrell's return.

It was the thump of a pile of books hitting the table in front of him that made Greagoir almost jump out of his chair as his eyes opened wide.

"Bertrell!"

"Sorry, Knight-Commander," he said in a not very apologetic voice.

"What are all these?"

"The journals from Knight-Commander Taranis' term of duty."

"So many?" Greagoir was aghast at the number of books piled in front of him.

Bertrell gave a theatrical sigh. "I will help." He slipped into a seat on the opposite of the table from Greagoir and began sorting through the stack of journals.

After an hour or two of reading about rounds of duty stations, supply problems, and misbehaving mage apprentices, Greagoir was relieved when Bertrell looked up at him with a satisfied expression on his face. "I have it!"

"Let me see what Taranis wrote." Bertrell obediently handed the journal to Greagoir, who took it from him eagerly and began to skim the pages. He began to mutter as a plan slowly formed in his mind. "Adrian didn't do the summoning, his sister did."

Bertrell, who didn't seem to realize Greagoir wasn't speaking to him, answered. "That makes sense. Demons are drawn to mages. It's not likely one would try to resist being brought into the mortal world. What was the catalyst that drew the demon to Thedas?"

Greagoir flipped back a page or two, looking for the information he needed. "It looks like it was the sister herself. That specific demon came when it felt her call."

"Yes, drawing the wrong demon, much less _any_ demon, could be a very bad thing," Bertrell said dryly. "But why?" He stopped, and for the first time, Bertrell's expression seemed to show some hesitation. "Why is this information important?"

Greagoir ignored the question as he continued to read through Taranis' writings.

"Surely, you aren't going to be as foolish as to try the same trick? No, that would be a very bad idea."

Greagoir barely heard Bertrell and he murmured to himself. "The summoning circle in the library. I can station a templar on the other side of the second-floor door to keep everyone out and one on the actual library door itself. Neria said the demon actually touched her in the Fade. That should create a link to allow her to summon it."

"Knight-Commander!"

That broke through Greagoir's concentration on the book in front of him, and he looked up at the other templar.

"If you are planning to attempt this, I ask that you reconsider. Facing down a demon is never a wise course of action."

"Believe me, if I had a choice, I would rather pass, but I can't."

Bertrell, seeming to realize that Greagoir could not be dissuaded, said, "Please, talk your plan over with the first enchanter at least. I'm sure he would have some helpful advice."

"That's a good idea. Thank you."

Greagoir left the library shortly after, taking Taranis' journal with him. As he walked back to his office, he ran his plan through his mind, trying to find ways to improve upon it.

He steadfastly tried to ignore the little voice in his head that asked him what would happen after the demon was dealt with, but he already knew the answer to that question. Neria wouldn't need him anymore. Greagoir would have to release her from her vow and then go back to the life he had lived before she had come so unexpectedly into his care. He didn't want to think about how empty his life would be without her in it, but he would do what was necessary. Greagoir was Knight-Commander of the Circle Tower, and he always did his duty, no matter how much pain it caused him.


	7. Confrontation With A Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Minor violence

_Greagoir:_

Two nights after Greagoir discovered Taranis' journal, he and Neria stood alone in the mages' library. He had talked to both Irving and Hadley about his plan. Neither of them had been thrilled with the idea, especially Greagoir's insistence that he and Neria meet the demon alone. Being knight-commander had its advantages, though. He flatly told Hadley that was how it was going to be, and when Irving realized that Greagoir would not give way, he had buckled under to Greagoir's will.

Greagoir had issued an edict that the library would be closed this night, and therefore it was. There were three templars in the prime of their powers stationed on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs that led to the senior mages' quarters. Irving and Hadley had insisted on being present, and Greagoir had agreed that they would have the watch on the door that led to the main portion of the library. These precautions were in case he and Neria fell to the demon. He would not be so careless in his duty as to leave the tower exposed to the possibility of an abomination running loose if they were not successful.

"Neria, come to me," he said and held out his hand to her. Once she placed her small hand into his, he couldn't resist drawing her into his arms one last time before they began. Encased in his armor as he was, he couldn't feel her against him, but he tilted his head and lowered it so he could rest his cheek against her hair. Her scent, so familiar now, flooded through his nose, and it actually seemed to help calm him. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he was nervous about this encounter tonight.

Her voice was very quiet when she spoke. "Maybe I should just do this myself."

"What? No. I forbid it."

"I don't want you to get hurt, and I'm stronger now than I was. It's not like it would be my first dance with a demon."

Greagoir's heart beat a tad bit faster at the thought that Neria cared enough to worry for him and to even consider facing down her fears alone, but he had to do this. It was the reason she had come to him. He must destroy this demon for his own sake. When she was gone and all he had left was his duty, he _needed_ to know that he had at least done this much for her. It would make all the pain and grief he would feel at their parting worth it.

Greagoir brought his hands together behind her back, and impatiently pulled his left gauntlet off. He wanted to feel her skin against his. He leaned back and put his fingers under her chin to tilt her head up so he could look into her eyes. "You do the summoning, and I'll take care of the rest, just like we discussed."

Her dark eyes stared into his, and he continued to look at her sternly until she dropped them and nodded.

There was so much he wanted to say in case this was the last time he ever held her, but no, he wasn't going to think like that. He was certain they would be victorious. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist trailing his fingers over her cheek before he let go of her, stepped away, and put his gauntlet back on.

He steeled himself and tried to put on a confident smile. "Ready?"

Neria just nodded once again, and Greagoir led the way behind the bookshelves where the summoning circle was located. Taranis had recorded the spell that Adrian and his sister had used to summon the demon. It had seemed a bunch of gibberish to him, but Neria had seemed to understand it and claimed she could modify it to fit their situation.

Greagoir took a deep breath as he walked past the summoning circle. He could feel the weakness in the Veil here from the repeated openings and closings as the mages practiced summoning creatures. Even though he knew there were extra protections in place to ensure that only those summoned slipped through, he couldn't resist a shudder. Templars were taught that a tear in the Veil was always a dangerous thing no matter how controlled it was supposed to be, and Greagoir had no reason to doubt such teachings.

Neria walked right up to the edge of the circle. The plan was for her to back off as soon as the demon arrived. Greagoir would close the tear, trapping it so that it couldn't escape back through or draw on the Fade's power while he engaged it. He just hoped everything worked out as well as he had planned.

Greagoir reached behind him and pulled out his sword. Just having it in his hand helped to center him, and he let go of all doubts and misgivings. He took a deep breath and nodded to Neria to begin.

She began to speak the arcane words that meant nothing to him. After a moment or two, however, his templar sensitivities detected the thinning of the Veil. As Neria continued on with her summoning, the circle itself took on a pinkish color and a hazy fog appeared within it. Greagoir unconsciously tightened his hold on his sword as he continued to wait.

With a final shout, Neria began to back away, and a figure appeared in the circle. It took the form of a man with reddish-blond hair in full armor with a sword and shield on his back.

"Well, this is a surprise," said the creature in a voice that Greagoir suddenly realized he had heard before. It sounded just like the prince's voice when he had accompanied Neria to the tower during the Blight. It advanced toward Neria, not seeming to realize that Greagoir was behind it.

With all the skill his years of experience gave him, Greagoir quickly and seamlessly closed the opening in the Veil as Neria backed rapidly away from the Fade creature.

Once the tear was closed, Greagoir struck, hitting the demon with a contained smite to drain its mana, but leaving Neria unaffected by his attack.

The demon whirled. "And what do we have here. A templar?" The demon looked at him and began to laugh. It turned back to Neria. "Oh, my dear, couldn't you have done any better than this? You really think this old man can stop me?"

Neria had backed against the wall as he had ordered her to and remained mute. She knew better than to engage the demon in any sort of conversation. It gave a theatrical sigh and said, "Mortals. No fun at all."

The creature turned its attention back to Greagoir and began to stalk towards him, but he was already moving to confront it. "Let's see what you really want, shall we?" asked the demon. Its eyes narrowed for a moment and then a smile broke out. "Too easy."

The demon's form shifted, smoothly flowing into Neria's familiar shape. Greagoir instinctively paused in his advance and the tip of his sword began to dip down. There was a voice screaming in the back of his mind. _It's not Neria! It's not her!_ He felt such a draw towards her, however, that it took everything he had not to drop his sword and rush to embrace her.

The not-Neria's face took on a pleading expression and said in her voice, "Please, you must help me. You know what will happen if you don't." She turned sideways and ran a hand down the mage robes she wore so the outline of her body became visible.

"No." Greagoir's heart pounded as he tried to deny the image in front of him. "It can't be." His body drooped as his sword fell even lower.

"But it is. You must save us. You are the only one who can. We can flee the tower, and then the three of us can be together always: you, me, and our child." She advanced slowly with her hand held out towards him. "Please, take my hand and save us all."

A protesting voice was screaming at him in the back of his mind. _Don't! It's a trick, you fool!_ And then, it was silenced. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to break free of the compulsion that was overcoming him.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes to stare into her gaze. "Neria?" he asked dazedly.

"Yes, my love. Come, take my hand and let us be away."

 _Wait. There's something wrong with this._

"No! I'll not allow you to hurt him!"

Greagoir was confused as to where that voice came from. Was Neria not standing right in front of him? He felt all the hair on his body lift as a potential filled the air around him. Suddenly the figure before him convulsed as lightning coursed through it. When it did, Neria's face changed as her elven ears were replaced with horns and her features rearranged themselves.

Greagoir, freed from the desire demon's will, attacked. He grasped his sword in both hands and lunged for the creature. Using all the strength in his powerful arms, he swung the sword and connected with the demon's neck. With an audible thump, the creature's head hit the floor some distance away. The body seemed to fall in slow motion. It hit the ground with a thud before it began to disintegrate.

Greagoir checked his swing and brought his sword down, but he panted with exertion. The sudden release of the demon's compulsion had sent adrenaline coursing through him, and now he felt his hands beginning to shake in reaction.

"Are you all right?" Neria was before him, anxiously looking him over.

"I'm fine," he said as breath rapidly returned. He kept his eyes on the demon's form until the last bit of it had faded away.

"I know I wasn't supposed to interfere, but when I saw Alistair, I mean the demon, about to attack you, I just couldn't let it do it."

"Wait, Alistair?" he asked in confusion.

"Yes." She looked up at him questioningly. "Who else would you have been fighting?"

"No one," he said in reply, too ashamed of his weakness in succumbing to the demon's draw to admit what he had really seen. He noted his sword still appeared as clean as when he had drawn it from its scabbard, and he quickly replaced it to its sheath. Then he put both hands on Neria's shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. "Are you hurt?"

"No." He saw a spark of almost giddiness come into her eyes. "We did it."

Greagoir shook his head. "No, you did it."

" _We_ did it together," she said. "Thank you."

He felt almost a physical pain as shame began to overtake him. He had fallen under the demon's spell and let her down. Neria moved closer, putting her arms around him. Greagoir was glad when he heard the door from the other room open and Irving's voice. He didn't deserve her gratitude, and this gave him an excuse to move away from her embrace.

"All went as expected? We felt the ebb and flow of the energies you were manipulating," Irving said in explanation as he and Hadley approached.

"The demon is dead." Greagoir wouldn't say tonight went totally as expected, but at least Neria was free from the threat the creature represented.

Irving's smile encompassed them all. "Wonderful. Well, I say this calls for a small celebration. To my office then? I happen to have a bottle of something special tucked away."

Even though he had released her from the strict rules he had first given her for public behavior, at least in front of Hadley and Irving, Neria moved to stand slightly behind him and remained silent, obviously waiting for him to answer the first enchanter.

Greagoir forced a smile to his face. "Certainly, Irving."

The four of them climbed the stairs to the next floor. Hadley relieved the men on the upper door as they went through, and then the three templars fell into step with them as they headed towards their quarters and Irving's office. Greagoir drifted a few paces behind the others as they chatted amongst themselves, with Neria in her place behind him.

All he could think about was the image the demon had showed him. He had never considered the possibility of a pregnancy before and assumed Neria was using the counter-conception potion that was freely available. However, there was certainly no one in the tower who was more aware of how often that failed than he was. Greagoir personally took each child born of a mage and delivered it to the Chantry representative after birth. It was one of the hardest duties in the tower for a templar, but he would not ask those under his command to do something that he himself was hesitant to do. He considered it part of his responsibility as knight-commander.

Greagoir thought of all the women over the years that he had seen in tears or who had fought him as they tried to hold onto their babies. As difficult as it was, he had never failed in his duty in taking a child from its mother, no matter how much of a fight the mage had put up. When he had allowed Neria to come back to the tower, she had agreed to abide by Chantry law. He thought it probable that if she became pregnant Neria would leave the tower before it became known, but he still couldn't help thinking what it would be like if his duty required him to take _his_ child from Neria's arms and give it over to the Chantry.

As he continued to follow the other men, a very quiet voice inside his head tried to tell him that having to give Neria up wasn't all bad. At least then he would never have to face such a scenario.


	8. Preparing For Goodbye

_Greagoir_ :

It was late when he was finally able to break away from the impromptu celebration in Irving's office. Irving and Hadley had wanted to hear the story of what had happened in the library. Greagoir told as brief a version as he could, leaving out the demon's play with his mind but praising Neria's actions. As they made their way back to his quarters, Greagoir was quiet except to return the greetings of the few people they passed, and Neria walked in silence in her normal position slightly behind him. As he walked, Greagoir realized that he would no longer have to activate the Fade-blocking runes on Neria's collar before she slept each night. With the demon that was hunting her destroyed, it would no longer be necessary.

When they went through the door of his quarters, he headed for the armor stand while Neria went to their small closet area to slip out of her robe and stash her staff. He began to unbuckle straps and remove the pieces of his armor, and it wasn't long before he felt her small fingers assisting.

He watched her as she concentrated on her work, and he noted a small frown line between her eyes. Finally, when he was left in just his linen undergarments, he started to speak.

She beat him to the punch, however. "Are you all right, Master?"

"I'm fine."

If anything, the frown line on her face deepened, and Greagoir knew she wasn't fooled. "You go on to bed," he said. "I need to record our little adventure tonight, and I want to do it while it is fresh in my mind."

She looked into his eyes with a troubled expression on her face. "You don't want me to sit up with you?"

They went to bed together each night. The evenings he had things to do, she would usually lie on the floor beside him with a book while he worked at whatever business needed his attention. He wondered if Neria ever realized what a distraction she actually was. She would lie on her belly with her chin propped up in her hand as she read. Her little feet would kick in the air occasionally, and he would be mesmerized, watching the muscles in her legs and ass ripple. Sometimes she would seem to be aware of his regard and would glance up at him with a small come-hither smile. It never failed to affect him.

"No, it's late, and you must be tired. It might take me a while to finish this. Go ahead and go to bed."

Greagoir knew she realized something wasn't right, but she wouldn't push him. Neria walked over, slipped her arms around his waist, and pressed herself against him. For the first time in months, he felt awkward touching her. He put his arms around her and said, "Good night."

She pushed away and looked up at him. "May I have a kiss before I go?"

He leaned over and brushed his lips against hers before releasing her and heading for his desk. He felt her watch him as he busied himself in getting out his journal, quill, and ink. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shoulders drop a bit before she turned and made her way to the bed.

He wanted nothing more than to join her and plunge into her body until he found the sweet release that she gave him so willingly, but Greagoir had never been one to hide from unpleasant truths. Once he was sure she was truly herself again, his duty required that she pass out of his life, and he had best start getting used to being alone once again. A part of him refuted that statement, insisting she was his and he should do whatever was required to keep her. Ignoring that voice, he sat down and dutifully opened his journal to begin recording the events of the night.

When he was finished, it was even later. He could hear Neria's soft breathing in the bed as she slept. He hooded the mage light he had been using and quietly rose from his chair. He knew the layout of this room and had no trouble in navigating it in the dark. He pulled his shirt off over his head and allowed it to fall to the floor. He divested himself of his linen breeches and smalls by the time he was to the bed. So as not to wake Neria, Greagoir slid in beside her as quietly as he could.

Sleep, however, proved elusive. Individual moments in time flashed through his mind; Neria laughing at something he had said, the simmering passion in her eyes just before he kissed her, Neria seated at his feet as she read to him from a book she was studying, his Little Beauty kneeling in restraints as she waited for his command. He swallowed a groan as the memories overtook him. Finally, he turned to something that had never let him down. He schooled his mind to discipline and began one of his templar meditations. The familiar routine quieted his troubled thoughts and eventually allowed him to drift off to sleep.

The next day, Greagoir brought her to the office with him. In the past month, he had started permitting her to accompany him occasionally. It had allowed her limited interaction with those in the office area—his aides, Hadley, Irving—while she was still firmly under his eye. For the first time since she had become his, he allowed her to descend the floors of the tower and go to the mages' library by herself. Up until now, he had kept her isolated from the other mages, although Irving had been keeping her well supplied in reading material.

As he knew his time with Neria was drawing to a close, it was harder for him to concentrate on work, and he had to firmly admonish himself. His templars deserved a commander whose mind was on the job. As such, he went to Irving's office so the two of them could make the final decisions on which apprentices would be harrowed and which made tranquil. The choices he and Irving made set every apprentice on a path they had no control over, but it had to be done. To protect Ferelden, Greagoir wasn't afraid to make the hard decisions, and he insisted on tranquility for those cases he believed warranted it. A few hours later, the two men had reached an accord on the entire list of names. He wondered if Neria was back from the library yet as he started to take his leave from Irving.

"Just a moment, if you please. There's something else I would like to discuss with you," Irving said.

Greagoir was clueless as to what the first enchanter wanted, but he sat back down. His mind automatically began running through possible issues that could have come to Irving's attention. "Which is?"

"Neria."

If there was anyone in the tower he would confide in, it would be Irving, but Greagoir was an intensely private man. Neria had gotten closer to him than anyone else had in decades. He used his knight-commander persona to keep people at arm's length, and that worked just fine for him. Greagoir was wary as he waited for Irving to continue. He certainly had no intention of discussing his relationship with Neria with the other man.

Irving was quiet for a few moments, looking away from Greagoir, but when he did speak, it wasn't about Neria. "Do you know what I saw the other day?"

"I haven't any idea," Greagoir said.

"I was down on the apprentices' floor and a group of them were gathered. They didn't notice me watching, but one of the younger ones was getting picked on. It ended with her armful of books spread across the floor before the others moved off. I was going to go over and speak to the young lady, but you'll never guess what happened next." Irving returned his gaze to Greagoir's.

Greagoir sat silently, trying to figure out where Irving was going with this.

"One of your templars, a young man, only a few years older than this apprentice, removed his helm, knelt down, and helped her to gather her books. He spoke to her, but I was too far away to hear what he said. I just saw a small smile come to her face before she headed off with her books clutched to her chest."

Irving continued on without allowing him to say anything. "After all our years working together, I know you, Greagoir; whether you like to admit it or not. These past months haven't only caused a change in Neria, but they've changed you as well, and for the better. You've always been a fair man, but your stance has been a strict adherence to Chantry rules regardless of how those rules affect people. With Neria under your care, I've seen you become more aware of mages and templars both as individuals, and some of your recent decisions have reflected a new flexibility."

Greagoir cleared his throat self-consciously. He didn't think he had changed that much.

"The tower has changed because you've changed, and that's not a bad thing. How mages are treated by the templars is directly affected by the knight-commander. You set the tone in how the tower functions, and the Circle is lucky to have you here in Ferelden. I've gotten some rather disturbing letters from First Enchanter Orsino in Kirkwall, and I just wanted you to know that I appreciate the line you've always walked. Not many knight-commanders would have spared the Circle after the whole fiasco with Uldred, and don't think I'm not well aware of it."

Greagoir didn't know what to say to Irving's words. All he had ever done was to try to fulfill his obligations as best as he could.

"But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

 _Ah-ha, here it comes. He probably wants to know why I haven't released Neria yet._

"As part of my duty as first enchanter, I keep an eye on the other mages here in the tower. Granted, I haven't seen as much of Neria as previously when she was living on the mages' floor, but I see a significant difference in her since she has come to you. Before she left the tower years ago, she had that restlessness that so many of the young ones have as they seek to find their place. When she returned to us, that was gone, but she had changed so drastically. She isolated herself from everyone, refusing to allow anyone to even be her friend. I admit I was a little concerned when she chose you as her templar, but after seeing her here in the offices and watching her interact with you, and even Hadley and me, I realize I was wrong to be worried. She seems happy and more at ease with herself than I've ever seen her. She's found something in you, and, I believe, you in her."

"Irving, what are you trying to say?" Greagoir had heard enough of the other man's thoughts on him and Neria.

"I'm not handling this very well, am I? What I mean is I know that only you can release Neria from your protection, and if you think that doing so would not be good for her, than you won't get any complaints from my office."

Greagoir blinked once and then again as he tried to overcome his shock. He had expected Irving to be questioning him as to why he hadn't released Neria yet, not encouraging him to keep her. "Are you saying what I think you are? You want me to _not_ release her from my care?"

Irving looked away. "Well, I'm only suggesting this in Neria's best interests, and yours as well, of course."

"Huh." Greagoir didn't want to have any more of a heart-to-heart with Irving than they had already had so that was all he said. He rose from his chair, signalling an end to the conversation. "I'll consider your advice."

During his walk back to his office, Greagoir still had a hard time believing that Irving was encouraging him to keep Neria with him, but he did think about the first enchanter's suggestion. The part of him who wanted to keep Neria regardless of anything else heartily approved. The temptation was great; however, he didn't see how he could balance that desire against his duty. Ever since he had taken his vows all those years ago, being a templar and doing everything that entailed to the best of his ability had been the entire focus of his life. Now with Neria, he had become something else, her master, and he didn't know how he could be both at the same time now that the demon was dead and his duty to her was fulfilled.

There was another factor as well. He was old, and she was not. Greagoir was doing his best to fight against the effects of aging, but he knew he was a step slower than he used to be and his endurance wasn't quite what it had been five years prior. Neria still had so much life in front of her while his best days were done. When he had taken on this responsibility, he had sworn to himself to follow Ambroise's writings and think of Neria before himself and that is what he was determined to do. It wouldn't be right to try and keep her. When he died, she would still be middle-aged with years ahead of her. It wouldn't be fair to leave her alone at such a time, when it would be too late for her to find someone else. No matter how attractive Irving's suggestion was, it just wasn't the _right_ one.

He also couldn't forget the way he had almost given in to the demon. He honestly wasn't sure what would have happened if Neria hadn't cast her lightning spell. Greagoir had always assumed that those mages who crafted deals with demons were weak, but after his experience last night, he was starting to realize there was much more to it than just that. The way he had felt drawn to the thing, even though he had known in the back of his mind exactly what it had been, alarmed him. He had always expected better of himself.

____________________

Later that same night, after he had finished his workday, collected Neria, and the two of them had gone to dinner in the mess, they were back in his quarters. He wanted to assess her mental state after having been allowed back in the mage portion of the tower on her own. Given that, he wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to what she was actually saying.

"… and then Miranda, the jealous bitch, called me a templar whore. Well, I wanted to tear into her, but I decided that wouldn't be the right way to handle her. So I said, 'Hum, whore isn't exactly the right word, is it? I'm fond of templar mistress myself. After all, I'm only sleeping with one and not for money.' You should have seen the look on her face." Neria laughed lightly.

Greagoir pasted a smile on his face as he looked deep into her eyes. Yes, the last bit of sadness that had haunted her for so long was gone. With the demon destroyed, she didn't need him anymore. It was time for her to take over her own life once again. He hesitated, though. If he did this tonight, she would have to shuffle around and try and find a place to sleep. He would free her in the morning. It would give her all day to move her things out and return to the mages' floor while he was in his office. He didn't want to have to be here while she prepared to leave.

"… I told them your prick was as long as my arm and that you liked to spend the evenings dancing naked in our room."

Greagoir just nodded, his attention still focused on his own thoughts.

"I knew you weren't listening to me!"

That caught his attention. Neria was standing with her hands on her hips, looking up at him with fond exasperation in her expression. He reached out and took her face between both his hands as he leaned down to kiss her. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was thinking of something Irving and I were discussing today." It was even the truth.

She smiled happily up at him as his kiss seemed to have mollified her. "I wasn't saying anything important anyway."

After that he settled down at his desk, supposedly to do some paperwork, but his mind refused to allow him to think of anything but her. In these last hours alone with Neria, he wanted to remember every minute. The evening passed quickly. He pretended to work, but mostly he just watched her. They chatted some of inconsequential things, and before he realized it, she was yawning in her tiredness.

When he climbed into bed and lay down, he drew her into his arms. He kissed her long and lingering, paying extra attention to how soft her lips were under his and how eagerly her tongue met his. As their kiss went on and on, he felt the stirring in his groin that Neria always caused in him. With a groan he broke away from her mouth and trailed his lips down to the soft skin of her neck above the collar. She tilted her head for him, and he gave her gentle nips as he continued his descent.

Her softly spoken, "Yes," was all the encouragement he needed, and his lips fastened around her already taunt nipple. As he sucked her, he felt her hips begin to move against him, and his hand slipped down her body. She willingly opened her legs for him, and his fingers began to play, stroking and teasing as he drew ever closer to her clitoris. She was lightly panting now, her breathing increasing in volume as her excitement grew. He moved to her other breast, still gently stimulating her as his fingers continued their work between her legs. When she ran one of her small hands down his abdomen and grasped his thickened shaft, it didn't take long for his breathing to become just as ragged as hers was.

He lifted his head from her nipple and said, "Take me in your mouth." He rolled to his back, and Neria leaned forward to plant kisses down his chest and stomach. She eagerly accepted him between her lips, using her saliva to moisten the soft skin of his cock. Greagoir grasped her head with both hands and then wrapped his fingers into her hair. Her lips came closer and closer to his body as he slid deeper into the wet heat of her mouth. He groaned as he felt the head of his cock hit the back of her throat, and he closed his eyes. In the past months, she had learned to take all of him orally, and he struggled not to thrust with his hips as she began to suck him in earnest. After a few moments, she backed away, and her hand stroked the base of his shaft as her head bobbed up and down on the head of his cock. The pressure began to build deliciously, but he didn't want to come too soon.

"Enough." At his command, she released him from her hand and raised her head, and his cock left her mouth with a small pop. He removed his hands from her hair. "On your back."

Neria obediently rolled over on the bed, and Greagoir laid over her. Her large brown eyes looked up at him trustfully, and he bent his head and claimed her mouth once again. This time he kissed her hungrily as the passion she had aroused in him sought an outlet. He felt her body soften under him as she yielded herself to the unspoken demand in his kiss. Each time he took her, there was always a moment of surrender, and he loved the feeling that engendered in him. It spoke to that primitive part of his brain and brought out his most basic instincts. He grasped both her wrists in his hands and placed them on the mattress beside her head.

"Mine," he said against her lips. He would claim her one last time, and the memory of this night would have to satisfy him in all the lonely ones to come in the future.

"Always."

He felt a tightening in his stomach at her response as the knowledge of how short always really was rolled over him. He pushed the thought away, but it did cause a tempering of his desire. He released one of her arms and brought his hand against her face as his kiss gentled. He stroked the soft skin of her cheek before he released her other wrist. He pushed back from her lips so he could look at her lying beneath him. Greagoir took in the delicate features of her face and the scar that she wore as a badge of honor. She hadn't moved her hands from where he had put them on the bed, and the smoldering look in her dark eyes spoke to him of want and need.

Using both his hands and his lips, he caressed her skin, wanting to touch and claim every part of her. He started with her face, dropping soft kisses on her brow, her nose, and the point of her chin. He ran his hand down her neck, and she brought her arms down as she arced up into his touch, offering him her body. When his hands met her shoulders, he ran them down her arms to end at her fingers. He picked up each of her hands and planted kisses on both, first on the backs and then the palms. As he kissed one of her palms, he felt her fingers lightly touch his face, and for a moment he leaned into that soft stroking motion. Then he released her hands and ran his back up her arms and then down her torso, pausing for a moment to gently caress each hardened nipple. Again, her body responded to his touch and she gave small mewls of pleasure. He spent a few moments kissing her stomach as she lightly wrapped her hands around his head. He loved how small and delicate her body was and how he could span her waist with his hands. Her hips were gyrating in a steady rhythm now, but he ignored that hint as he continued to stroke down each of her legs. His lips and tongue followed to lightly taste her skin, and when he arrived at her tiny feet, he lightly sucked on her toes.

"Turn over."

Neria rolled and he began to repeat the process, working his way back up her body. He couldn't resist a firm bite to one of her ass cheeks that caused her to jump in response. He rubbed his way up her back and shoulders to her neck, and he heard her groan at the sensations. Her head was turned on the bed so that one ear was pressed against the mattress and the other was in the air. He lightly licked up the point of the ear she had exposed, and he felt her body tremble in response. He loved what effect that had on her.

Her voice was huskier than normal when she spoke. "You missed a spot."

"I did, didn't I? We can't have that." He backed away from her. "Roll over."

Neria eagerly rolled to her back and helpfully spread her legs. He bent his head to her ear and whispered to her. "Tonight, you may come as you like, and I want to hear my name on your lips."

When he raised his head, she looked at him questioningly as she hadn't called him anything but master, ser, or knight-commander since that day in his office. She had always been obedient to his commands, however, and said, "Yes, Mas—I mean… Greagoir."

He hadn't realized how much he would like hearing her say his name, and he gave her another soft kiss before he moved to kneel between her legs. He let his beard rub against the inside of her thighs as he moved into position, and she shivered with each light brush of contact. He spread her outer lips open with his fingers to allow his tongue access to all the places she liked best. He knew exactly where to give her light teasing licks or where to increase the pressure against her.

As he lightly circled that nub of flesh that gave her such pleasure, she said, "Please, please." Her hips were lifting and lowering as she sought to encourage him in his efforts. He brought one hand to her opening while still lightly circling her clitoris with his tongue. He rubbed gently, coating his fingers in the wetness that leaked from her body. He pushed a finger up inside of her as he sealed his mouth around her clitoris and sucked.

Greagoir felt her body's response immediately as her hands clenched around his head and her hips jerked against him. She made inarticulate sounds as he used tongue and lips to push her passion higher. He added a second finger to the first as he continued to move them in and out of her.

She said, "I can't—I'm going to—Greagoir!" His name was one long wail as her body reached orgasm. She continued to hold his head firmly against her as she shook with the force of her release.

When her hips dropped back to the bed, he moved his head and rested it on her inner thigh. He stroked her belly and leg gently for a few minutes, and then he pushed himself up and turned so he was sitting on the bed with his cock jutting proudly into the air. Neria watched him with eyes that were soft with contentment. He held out his hand, and she moved quickly, going from a reclining position to her knees and putting her hand in his. He pulled her towards him and indicated for her to kneel over his lap. Greagoir rarely allowed her on top of him, but tonight was different. Tonight, he wanted to look into her eyes and remember every second he spent in her body.

She grasped his cock with one hand and put her other arm around his neck. She then moved to line herself up so she could take him into her. Greagoir put his hands around her waist as she began to lower herself, and he held her gaze with his. He controlled her descent with his hands, and she obediently raised and lowered herself as he directed, working him so she slid oh so slowly closer and closer to his body until his length was completely buried inside her. He wrapped an arm around her as her legs encircled his waist and both arms held around his neck.

Cradling her face in his other hand, he looked deep into the soft brown pools of her eyes as he began to rock against her. She picked up his motion, rolling her hips toward him in perfect timing, and he felt the slow increase of arousal with each gentle stroke. He watched Neria's face as the languidness of her release was replaced by desire once again. She caught the edge of her lower lip with her upper teeth as she began to push harder against him, seeking more contact. Her pupils dilated and her breathing increased.

Greagoir lay back on the bed pulling Neria with him. Then he rolled the both of them over as one, being careful to keep his weight off her body. He wanted—needed—to be deeper inside her, but without losing the sight of her expressive eyes. He grasped her legs below the knees and pushed them up towards her shoulders, changing the angle he entered her body. With an impatient grunt, he jerked his hips forward, gaining an even deeper seat inside her. She panted as she pleaded with him to drive harder, faster, to give her more. She rolled her head back and her eyes closed.

"No, look at me," Greagoir said hoarsely as he continued his thrusts.

Neria put her arms around his neck as her eyes met his once again. Greagoir's hips kept up their relentless back-and-forth motion as he watched her response to every move he made. Her widened eyes, grasping hands, and gaping mouth told him she was close to another orgasm. He adjusted position slightly to create pressure _there_ , and his motions lost their smooth rhythm. His thrusts became more frenzied and erratic as he chased the sensation that would allow him release. The clenching of her body, the wild look in her eyes, and the cry of his name signalled her satisfaction. That knowledge pushed him that final bit, and with one last stroke, he buried his spurting cock as deeply inside her as he could.

"Neria," he said loudly in her ear as his body shook against hers. The barriers that kept his emotions in control were breeched by the force of his orgasm and the deep connection he had with her. All the feelings he had been pushing away the past few days swamped him at once, and pain hit him as if the loss of Neria had already occurred. Greagoir wanted her forever in his arms and always in his bed. She was his, and he didn't know how he could let her go. The frantic pounding of his heart that seemed to declare _mine, mine, mine_ with each beat gradually slowed and became _goodbye, goodbye, goodbye_ instead.

He let some of his weight rest against her as he turned his head from her view. He could feel the prick of unshed tears in the corners of his eyes, and he didn't want to have to try to explain them to her. Neria snuggled happily into his arms unaware that this was the last time they would ever be together like this, and the agony of that knowledge almost crushed him.

Afraid he was too heavy for her, he rolled, bringing her to rest on his chest. The feel of her lips placing a trail of soft kisses across his neck and upper chest was almost too much for him to bear. She must have felt his distress as she quietly asked, "Are you okay?"

Not trusting his voice, he just nodded, unwilling and unable to tell her what was in store for them. He still had a few hours that he could pretend nothing was wrong and Neria could be happily ignorant, and he didn't want to lose them.

He continued to hold Neria against him, gently stroking her skin for long minutes, and her soft sighs and lightness of breath told him she was dozing. In an effort to forget what tomorrow would bring and escape the turbulence his emotions caused him, his mind turned to the other night when they had fought the demon. Over the past months, there were things he hadn't told her, but he had never lied to her. He owed her the truth of what had happened that night and how he had almost succumbed to the demon before she was out of his life for good. "Neria, are you awake?"

"Hm," she said sleepily.

"I want to talk to you about what happened in the library." He heard the change in her breathing as she came more awake, but she didn't move away from him.

"What about it?"

"Once you had summoned the creature, and it turned its attention to me, it wasn't your prince I saw."

"It wasn't?" Her tone was light but still laced with sleep.

"No. It was you." He thought about omitting the next part, but she deserved the whole truth. "It took your form, and you were pregnant." He plunged on without allowing her to break in. "I thought I was ready for anything, that nothing it threw at me that would make me hesitate, but I was wrong. All I could think was I would have to take your baby—our child—away from you and give it to the Chantry. It was trying to get me to run away from the tower with you so that we could all be together. When you cast your spell, it broke the demon's hold on me, and I was free to function again."

She was quiet for a few minutes, but then she pressed a kiss to his chest. "I should have been strong enough to face the demon on my own. It was unfair of me to put you in that position, but after everything that happened at the end of the Blight, I was a complete mess. Somewhere inside I knew it, but refused to acknowledge the fact. I was the Hero of Ferelden, damn it, and I could handle anything.

"The demon provided the impetus," Neria admitted, "but I think it was the absolute mass of humanity in Denerim that really brought me back here. Once all my friends had gone their own way, it was difficult to fit in there. Everywhere I went, there were eyes watching me, staring at me, beseeching me for things I didn't know how to give. It was a relief to get back to the orderly life in the tower. Here the days have a rhythm. You see the same people every day, eat the same food, read the same books in the library. It's a routine that I lived my whole life by, but it still wasn't enough to fix what was wrong inside me. That took you, and that's where the demon made its mistake. It didn't count on the fact that I would change in the months that I wasn't in the Fade. Alistair's image wasn't enough to stay my hand anymore, especially when it threatened you."

Greagoir felt his heart leap at her words before dropping back into the pit of his stomach. He hugged her tighter and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He hadn't dared to hope that she would come to care for him, but knowing that she did would make letting her go even harder.

After a few minutes, he said, "I still feel as if I let you down."

"You didn't let me down." She paused a moment as if changing her train of thought. "Think of it this way: When a mage first comes into their power, they aren't very strong. It takes time and the development of will to increase the amount of mana that we can control. So when demons are first drawn to us, it is the lesser spirits of the Fade. We become used to dealing with them, and thus as our power grows and stronger demons are drawn to us, we learn to handle the greater temptation. What we faced the other night was a powerful desire demon. The fact that you reacted so quickly when I cast that spell proves you weren't as far under its control as you might think. Templars, with all the discipline instilled in them by the Chantry, are the only people besides mages who can hope to stand against a demon. If you weren't a templar, you would have been totally lost in the fantasy the demon was weaving for you. Instead, you reacted right away once its deceit was revealed and struck the blow that killed it."

Her explanation didn't completely remove his disappointment in himself, but it did help alleviate some of it. He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head and squeezed her tightly.

They were both quiet for a few moments before Neria spoke again "There's something else you should probably know." He felt her run a fingertip aimlessly across his chest. "I can't have children. What the demon showed you can never happen."

Greagoir went very still as the importance of her words struck him. "Why do you say that?"

"When I left the Wardens, I swore not to reveal secrets of the Order, but I know I can trust you not to repeat this to anyone."

Greagoir felt a warm glow infuse him at her trust.

"There is more to becoming a Warden than just joining the Order. There's a physical process where you actually take the taint into your body. It's what gives the Wardens our abilities to detect darkspawn and a few other added benefits; however, it also makes a Warden sterile. Didn't you ever wonder why I never have a period?"

Greagoir was glad it was dark and she couldn't see his discomfort with the subject. "I just assumed it was from the counter-conception potion the mages use."

He felt her shake her head against him. "No, I don't have to use them. A little over a year after I joined the Wardens, my flows stopped. I'll never conceive."

"Oh. Do I say, 'I'm sorry?'" The awkwardness of the situation made him uncomfortable.

She gave a small laugh. "No, not necessary. I must admit it didn't bother me all that much. Being a mage, I've always known I'd never be allowed to keep a baby even if I had one. I think it is much better to never have carried a child than be forced to give it up once it was born."

At least he knew she wasn't already pregnant. It would be one less thing to worry about once he freed her from his protection in the morning, and he was dreading having to tell her. He hated the thought of hurting her, but a smaller, cleaner break now was better than a larger hurt in the future. Greagoir continued to hold Neria and lightly caress her until he heard her breathing deepen once again.

His mind wandered as he couldn't help but think of what would happen after tomorrow. He wondered if the separation would be as hard for her as it would be for him and if she would stay here at the Circle. She was the only mage in the tower that could choose to walk out the front door, and a small part of him hoped that she would. He tried to imagine the torment he would feel at catching glimpses of her from a distance and knowing he couldn't touch her, the awkwardness that would ensue when he ran into her on the mages' floor, or the jealousy he would experience the first time he knew she had taken a lover.

Greagoir firmly pushed all those images away. He had the rest of his life to torture himself with thoughts of her without him. For tonight, he was just going to concentrate on how it felt to hold Neria as she lay in his arms.

It was a memory he wouldn't ever want to forget.


	9. Resolution

_Neria:_

She woke to her master's scent in her nose and the warmth of his body beside hers. A smile crossed her lips as she snuggled even closer to him. Neria lay there a few minutes as the veils of sleep slowly left her. He continued to breathe deeply, and she knew he was still asleep.

Ever since they had confronted the demon, he had been acting strangely. It was almost as though he was hiding himself away from her. She hoped that with their lovemaking and talk last night things would return to normal between them. Neria hadn't realized he was worried about her becoming pregnant, and she was glad she had been able to reassure him about the impossibility of that happening. She looked at his face in repose. There were lines etched into his brow and small bags beneath his eyes as if he was still short on sleep. Neria reached up a hand to lightly touch the skin above his small beard with just her fingertips. His whiskers had grown in overnight, and one of the first things he would do when he arose was shave them off. He knew how they irritated her sensitive skin, and since realizing that even a day's growth would mark her, he took great pains to remove them.

Neria was grateful for how he went out of his way to care for her. When this all began, she never thought to find in him what she had. His strength was what had drawn her to him and put her on her knees before him. Because of how he comported himself, never losing his control, she had thought he never doubted himself, but as those first weeks passed, she had realized he just didn't show any of his true thoughts or feelings to others. Everyone else in the tower only saw the mask of the knight-commander, and the fact that he allowed her to see the man behind that never failed to thrill her.

Neria had spent the past months learning everything she could about him. She had watched his body language when they were together and quickly learned how to match her actions to his moods. Sometimes he would dominate her completely, but at others, he would touch her so tenderly it was as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Both made her heart race faster, although for different reasons. He expected her to be willing and obedient to all his desires, but his manner of demanding her responsiveness was what had her eager to comply. He had kept his vow and never hurt her for his own amusement. In fact, he was more considerate of her comfort than Alistair had ever been. The way he showed caring for her without losing any of his masculinity or authority was one of his traits that drew her so strongly.

She had quickly adjusted to his rules of how she was to conduct herself and the differences between what was acceptable in public and what was expected of her in private. It had taken her some time to accept the fact inside herself that she desired the dominance he was willing to provide. Once she had, though, any minor resistance to his authority had disappeared, and with that loss had come a whole new spectrum of feelings she had never experienced as she learned the joys of willing submission. There were still times when it was difficult for her to go against her own desires and bend to his will, but Neria found a sense of satisfaction deep inside herself when she did so.

At first he had been strict with her, but as he had realized that she obeyed him because she honestly wanted to please him, he had become more lenient and many of the stricter rules he had given her had gone by the wayside. She still voluntarily called him master when they were alone. It was how she had come to think of him these past months and a form of respect that helped to accent the different roles in their relationship. He seemed to like her to speak her mind, but there were certain lines she instinctively knew not to cross. An open challenge of his authority would not be tolerated.

As she grew happier in her new role, the spells of depression that had occasionally overcome her ever since Alistair's death decreased and then disappeared. Her thoughts turned to Alistair less and the massive amount of guilt she had been carrying eased as her master's wants and needs became more and more important to her. Once Neria had finally brought herself to talk to him about Alistair, it had been like lancing poison from a wound. Her master had helped her to understand that Alistair had been responsible for his own choices. Yes, she had made mistakes, but she had done the best that she could at that time. She learned to leave the past behind her as she concentrated on the present.

Neria learned she loved taking care of her master. Touching his things as she cleaned his quarters or polished his armor was almost like touching him. She knew he had been training her much as one would an animal, conditioning her responses to please him, but Neria didn't care. The look of approval in his eyes, softly spoken praise, or the light touch of his hand against her skin when she performed as he wished was all the reward she needed. A time or two she had failed to meet his expectations, and the disappointment evident in his expression had been worse than if he had struck her. She had redoubled her efforts after that to ensure such a thing didn't happen again.

She felt him stir and his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer against him. She curled against his side with her head resting in the hollow between his chest and shoulder. He laid his head against hers and then his breath stirred a few strands of her hair. "Am I to accompany you today?" she asked in a soft voice.

He seemed to stiffen for a moment before he said in a flat monotone, "No, not today."

She nodded against his chest. Neria was disappointed not to be able to spend the day with him, but she would do as he wished.

"Neria, I—" He paused. Her attention was caught, and his voice seemed strained as if he had to force himself to continue speaking. "I want to tell you how much it's meant to me to have you here. You've shown me a part of life I never expected to see or experience. I've felt things with you I never will again. I want to—" He stopped suddenly.

Neria felt a sense of alarm, both from the way he was acting and the words he had uttered. "Master?" A question was heavily laced throughout the syllables. She tried to push away from his body so she could look into his face, but he squeezed her so tightly against him that for a moment she couldn't move.

He then abruptly turned away from her and rose from the bed.

Confusion and fear at this uncharacteristic behavior caused her heart to race. She started to crawl across the bed behind him as she asked, "Master, what's wrong?"

He took a few steps away from the bed before swinging back around to face her. "Neria Surana, I release—"

Suddenly, his intent became all too clear. "No!" She scrabbled frantically to climb out of the bed, the tangled covers around her legs making her less graceful than usual. "Wait! Don't do this, please, don't do this."

Finally, free of the bedclothes, she threw herself at him. Caught off guard at her sudden movement, he automatically wrapped his arms around her. She squeezed him as tightly as she could around the waist as she pressed herself against him.

One of his hands cupped the side of her face that wasn't tight against his chest as he said, "Neria." The sad tenderness in his voice made tears come to her eyes. "I have to release you. We both knew from the beginning this wasn't forever. The demon is gone. You don't need me anymore."

"Yes, I do," was her automatic response.

"No, you don't," he gently said. "You want me, there's a difference." There was a note of fondness in his voice, and he made her feel as though she was a gangly teenager again. "Although why you would want an old man like me, I still can't fathom."

"You aren't old! How many times do I have to tell you that?" She pushed away from him so she could look up at his face and suddenly she was angry. Angry that another man would push her away. _Why am I never good enough? What is it about me that makes it so easy for the men I care for to set me aside?_ She reached up and undid the buckles that secured the collar around her throat and tossed it out into the room. "There, does that change anything? Does it make you any less my master? Does it make us strangers again? Will it stop the yearning I'll feel for you in the middle of the night?"

"Of course not. I wish more than anything that it didn't have to be this way."

"Then don't make it that way. Make another choice."

"It's not that easy, Neria."

He reached out for her, and damn her weakness, she felt her anger drain away at the pain evident in his tone. After Alistair, she had sworn to let no man touch her heart again, but almost without her realizing it, he had done so. Neria had never told him how much he meant to her, but if she tried to do so now, she knew he wouldn't believe her. With a sense of frustration, she let him gather her against him once again.

He rested his head against hers before saying softly, "There's another reason as well. It wouldn't be fair to you. I have maybe ten years left before I'm replaced as knight-commander and then they retire me to some soft chantry post somewhere."

"You wouldn't have to take it. You could leave the templars." She pushed back to look up at his face.

His gaze met hers, and her heart hurt at the look in his eyes. "I can't leave the templars, Neria. It's just not possible."

"Is it the lyrium?"

She saw surprise that she would know about that in his expression. He had always been so careful that she never saw him take it. "That's the primary reason, but where would I go? I'd be a little old to have to start supporting myself," he said ruefully.

"I have more coin than I'll ever need locked away in Denerim, and I have connections in Orzammar. If the Chantry won't provide for you, I know that securing a lyrium supply wouldn't be a problem. When you are replaced, we could leave together." There was an outright note of pleading in her voice.

"And then what, Neria? Let's say I was willing to live off you. What happens when I die and leave you alone?"

Neria gave a harsh laugh. She imagined she could feel the taint burning ever more deeply into her bones. "How do you know you'll die first?"

He gave a sigh and shook his head as if she was being deliberately dense or obtuse, but she continued before he could answer. "My death already flows in my veins," she said as she stared intently into his eyes. Neria saw his expression change as he realized there was meaning behind her words.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, the skin around his eyes crinkling as they narrowed.

She grasped one of his hands and pulled him towards the bed. He followed her and sat down beside her on the edge. She pushed herself back and turned towards him bringing each ankle up under the opposite knee and resting her arms on her legs.

"Remember last night when I told you how Grey Wardens take the taint into our bodies?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"The taint is always a death sentence. The process that the Order uses only delays the inevitable. It can't stop it totally. Those that can tolerate the change carry the disease in a remitted form, but eventually, time runs out for every warden."

He looked at her with concern in his eyes. "What happens then?"

She looked down and picked at a thread in the quilt beneath her. "The Order calls it 'The Calling.' You begin to change and will eventually become a ghoul if the process is allowed to complete. To circumvent that, it is customary for us to go to Orzammar for one final trip to the Deep Roads to kill as many darkspawn as possible before the end."

"By yourself?" She could hear the horror in his voice at that thought. She had told him of her Deep Roads adventures, and he knew of her dread of the place.

She just nodded as she watched her fingers on the coverlet.

"Neria." His tone pulled her eyes to his face, and his expression made her want to climb into his arms and let him hold her. "How long before this happens?"

Again, she looked away from him. "They tell the new recruits thirty years. I talked to some of the wardens from Orlais when they came through Denerim on their way to Amaranthine, and evidently, it's not as cut and dried as all that. From what they said, it's actually anywhere between twenty to thirty years, depending on the individual warden."

"So that means…"

"Somewhere between seventeen to twenty-seven years," she finished for him.

He reached out to her and pulled her to him. She went willingly and ended up sitting sideways across his lap. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Neria gave a little shrug. "I've had a few years to adjust to the idea." She tilted her head back to look up at him. "But don't you see, the age difference between us doesn't matter. There's just as likely a chance you will outlive me as I would you."

She felt his arms tighten around her, and for a moment, she thought it was enough, that everything would be all right, the way she wanted it to be.

But then he spoke. "Neria." All he said was her name, but her hope died as his arms loosened around her. "I want more than anything to keep you with me, but I'm in command here. I have to provide the example for my men. I can't do that by breaking the vows I've kept my entire life and using my position to selfishly hold on to something I'm forbidden to have."

Neria felt a sense of desperation at his words. She should have been prepared for him to react this way, but she had been lulled by her own happiness. When Alistair had pushed her away, she had been so shocked she hadn't put up much of a fight, preferring to keep her pride in front of their other companions. She had grown in the intervening time since then; however, and Neria knew that he didn't want this anymore than she did. What she saw in his eyes and the way he touched her showed her that truth. If she could find a reason that would allow them to stay together, then he would grasp it as eagerly as she would. There had to be something she could say, _something_ that would change his mind.

Pushing her emotions to the side, she tried to think logically. Duty. That was the key. She had to appeal to his sense of duty. He had such a deep faith in the Maker and intense loyalty to the Chantry. It would break something fundamental inside of him if he felt he was going against the Chantry and his Order, and he would never willingly do that. She cudgeled her brain, and then sending out a silent thank you for all the times she had watched Leliana and Zevran persuade people to their point of view, she pushed herself off his lap to settle on the bed beside him once again. "Well, let's look at it from the Chantry's side of the situation, shall we?

He turned a look on her that held a glimmer of curiosity.

"Who is the most dangerous mage in the tower right now? Is it the first enchanter with his years of experience to draw upon, or how about Brodric with his affinity for the primal spells and easy display of power? Or is it perhaps me; a mage who spent a year fighting every day for her life against darkspawn, dragons, bandits, demons, abominations, and even an archdemon; someone who knows how to use her power effectively and understands, at least to a small degree, life outside the tower?"

His brows knit as he answered, "You."

"Let's say then that I am currently held in check by a powerful templar, taught to submit to his will and only allowed to use my magic at his command. Would the Chantry not think this a fine thing?"

"Yes." His reply was drawn out almost like a hiss.

Neria felt like she was lecturing the younger apprentices, but this was the best way to get her point across. "Now, let's suppose that for whatever reason this templar is removed from the picture. What happens to me? Having learned to cater to the wants and needs of another, do I have the strength to resume a quiet life in the tower, or now suddenly masterless, do I attempt to find a new master? I'm certain a demon would be quite eager to fulfill that role. Can you imagine how difficult it would be to fight an abomination that has my knowledge and abilities? Let's further consider how many templars would lose their lives trying to stop such a creature. Is it not perhaps irresponsible of the templar in question not to keep such a danger under constant scrutiny?"

"You wouldn't turn to a demon."

She rested her gaze on him as he turned his attention back to her face. "Are you sure? How many lives are you willing to gamble on that? You know how close I was to succumbing to a demon who offered me a man who shared my bed for only a few weeks. How much more enticing would it be to have back the master I'd lost? Would the Chantry not say that it was your duty to stop such a thing from happening if you could?"

"Maker, Neria. I never considered that line of thought." He rose from the bed, rubbing his hand agitatedly through his hair as he walked to the other side of the room. He rested his hands on his desk as he leaned against it with his back to her. He was obviously considering her words.

Neria let out a shaky breath. She had done the best she could. She knew better than to push him. Now, all she could do was wait and let him make his decision. Her mouth was dry, and she nervously gripped her fingers together to hold them still. The rest of her life depended on these next few minutes and what he decided. He stood unmoving for what seemed a long time, and Neria felt her stomach rebel as the tension dragged on and on.

"Fetch the collar and put it back on," he finally said without turning around. The tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. It was her master at his most dominant, and it sent her heart racing as hope flared inside her.

"Yes, Master." She jumped up from the bed and hurried to do as he had commanded. She squatted down to the floor and picked up the collar, quickly securing it around her neck. Neria had become accustomed to the feel of it wrapped around her throat, and she had felt the collar's loss. She then stood back up, her body automatically falling into the position he had taught her to stand: back straight, feet shoulder width apart, head up, eyes down, shoulders back, and hands at her sides.

He turned to face her. "Neria, come to me," he said and held out his hand. He had called her to him in just this way a hundred times in the past months.

She didn't hesitate. She ran to him, placing her hand in his. He reached out to pull her roughly against him, head lowering to press his lips to hers. His arms were like steel bands holding her slim form against him, but she wasn't looking for escape. Her body yielded to him, molding her soft curves to his hard angles as she answered the demand of his kiss that promised more, much more, would be expected of her.

As he lifted his head and looked at her, an expression of both possessiveness and wonder in his eyes, his voice was deep and feral as he said, "Mine." It was a statement of fact with no room for her to deny him.

"Yes, always." Her reply was soft and spoken breathily. She offered no resistance as he easily picked her up, carried her to the bed, laid her down, and then covered her body with his.

She had time for one last thought before she was lost to the sensations that only her master created in her. After a lifetime of searching for acceptance and a place to belong, Neria had found them in the last place she ever would have expected—in the arms of the tower's knight-commander.

 

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the end of Greagoir and Neria's story. I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. It was sort of fun to write a mage character who didn't automatically learn to fit into the world outside the tower and who was able to turn some of the Grey Warden disadvantages into advantages.


End file.
